Saving Grace
by girlattherockshow2
Summary: Loki is sent back to Midgard until he can understand how the actions of one man can have consequences that ripple beyond his intentions. He meets Grace, a single mother of a nearly-year old child with a dark past. Can he redeem himself in her eyes when she finds out how his actions caused her current pain? Post-Avengers, pre-Thor 2. Be advised there are triggers here.
1. Crashing Into You

**Author's Note: **Hi! It's been YEARS since I wrote fan fiction, so please be kind. Please note that I am only aware of the movie version of Loki/Thor/the Marvel world, so any comic discrepancies, you'll just have to ignore. I also don't own anyone except my own characters, Grace and her daughter. Please review, or just enjoy! :) More to come!

Chapter One: Crashing Into You

Song: "Somewhere Out There" by Our Lady Peace

The days were blending together at this point. He had never really been good at measuring time by Midgardian standards in the first place, and his skills hadn't improved even though he had been forced to adapt to it. His best estimate was a week, maybe two, since he had been cast out of Asgard at the hand of his adoptive "father," Odin. Something, something, redeem yourself, something, something, understand that the actions of one man can cause a ripple of consequence beyond your comprehension, et cetera. He hadn't really paid much attention to anything Odin said since he had been informed of his true heritage, his true … nature. Thor had also told him that, as part of this indignity, he would have to walk amongst the humans he had once tried to rule - but that as a result of SHIELD's meddling, no photographs of him had been published in any of the Midgardian news reports, so no one would know who he was unless they had seen him in person at the time of the attack - and most of those individuals were dead.

All he knew now was that, save for his ability to chill anything he touched at will and his inability to suffer fatal injury, he could not perform any feat of magic on Midgard. He had been stripped of all his other magical capabilities when he had been cast out. Apparently, it was widely believed he could not be trusted. He could not imagine why that would be the case.

Given that he had very little else to amuse himself, he spent most of his time wandering through what was called Central Park, because he hated spending any more time than he had to in the dreadful cinder block walled eight-by-twelve room at the place the Midgardians called the "Y" where he had been sleeping since he had descended to Earth. It had changed little since the last time he had been here (which, according to what he had read in the newspapers, had been a year ago), but even he had to admit that it was kind of a lovely place in which to lose oneself. He could, at the very least, forget where he was and why he was there. Perhaps in time he could conjure a plan to return to Asgard and seek revenge against his "brother" for trading him in exchange for these mortals. For now, however, he simply sought solace in solitude, walking in the early evening twilight of late autumn. The leaves were just beginning to fall off of the trees around him, and they crunched beneath his boots as he strode along the concrete path, heading absolutely nowhere in particular.

As he turned a sharp corner passing near a large oak tree, lost in thoughts of ways he could torture Thor - even, perhaps, by paying that overdue visit to Jane Foster, now that he was stuck here anyway - he suddenly felt the weight of another being bounce off of his body. The man, who was wearing an extraordinarily large hoodie, dark gloves, and dark pants, seemed to flail a bit, and then crashed directly onto his backside, bouncing off of Loki as though he had just walked into an invisible force field. As the man tried to steady himself at the same time as he remained slightly panic-stricken, Loki glared down at him, unamused.

"Could you possibly watch where you are walking, you insufferable beast?" Loki huffed, clearly offended at being touched by this stranger. "Is there not enough room in this park for you to avoid disturbing others with your presence?"

The man was clearly not expecting to run directly into a six-foot-tall frost giant, even though he had no idea that is who - what - he was dealing with. When he scrambled to his feet, he took off running in the other direction - and left behind a small satchel embroidered with the initials "GL." Loki picked up the satchel and ran his fingers over the embroidery. It was nothing fancy, certainly nothing regal. He opened the bag to look for some kind of currency - perhaps there might be enough to purchase a room at a slightly nicer inn. Instead, he found what he had recently learned to be something called an iPhone (apparently a type of messanger system), a small card with the words, "Bellevue Hospital Sexual Assault Response Team SAFE Center" on it, along with a ten digit number on it, and a small photograph of an infant Midgardian with bright red hair.

Just as quickly as the man had run off, another figure appeared out of the growing darkness, smaller this time, and more aware of her surroundings. He stared at her with his head held high, an eyebrow cocked, daring her to speak with each movement she made in his direction. As she came closer, he noticed she had her eyes momentarily on the bag he held, and then back to his eyes, and one hand on a small container with what he could see were the letters "PEPP" and "SPRAY" on the side. She fingered this container nervously, and he could see she was crying.

"Oh my God, you stopped him! I was chasing him and I couldn't keep up, but if I didn't get my bag back, I would lose my phone, and if someone has my phone, they have every way in the world to get into my life, and oh my God, you stopped him, how can I-" Loki rolled his eyes and held up a hand in front of her, palm out.

"Woman, please. I have no time or care for your troubles. Here is your satchel." He extended the bag to her, which she took from him gingerly. "I shall take my leave now." He turned on his heel.

"Wait!" She said. He wasn't quite sure why he stopped, as he truly did not care to hear what she had to say. But for whatever silly reason, he decided to indulge her. Besides, it was this or the "Y." He turned back.

"Well?" He said impatiently, arms at his sides, voice as cool as his own skin. "What is it, then?"

"I… I just… need to do something to repay you. You have no idea how difficult my life would be if you hadn't done what you just did. How long have you been walking? You must be cold - and I could use a cup of cocoa. Would you please let me buy you one?"

It had been a long time since had had something warm to drink that did not taste like one of Thor's post-training rags (and yes, he knew the taste well, as had been the result of a few ill-advised pranks Thor and the Warriors Three had thought funny in their youths - he would pay them back in spades upon his return). It was getting cold out, and dark. And, again, it was this or the "Y."

"As you wish," he sighed, slightly put off by the whole idea, but willing to play along for now. Perhaps he would find amusement - something he was sorely in need of.

"Fantastic! We can go to the City Bakery on Fifth. It's kind of far away, but sooooo worth it." The way she dragged out the word "so" was odd to Loki, but surprisingly, as he hoped, it piqued his interest. Her accent was very much the aged New York to which he had become accustomed, but she spoke with a certain youth that he did not expect from a woman he suspected to be in her early thirties. Yes, on this night, at least he would be entertained.

"What's your name?" She asked.

"Luke." This was the name he had been told to use while in banishment. In fact, he could not even speak his real name - Odin, SHIELD, someone had managed to put some kind of spell or some such thing on him so that he could not speak his name even if he wanted to. Allegedly it was for his own protection, but he suspected it was so he could not obtain the glory to which he was entitled.

"Well, Luke, it's nice to meet you." She slung the strap of her bag over her shoulder and tossed her chestnut hair back, extending her right hand in front of her. He took it gingerly, as if she were contagious. "I'm Grace."


	2. Chocolate Coated

**Author's Note: **Yes, I did manage to bang out another chapter in a day! I'm just so excited to be inspired again. This one might be a bit boring, but I have to set up the characters and the story, and eventually the payoff will be longer chapters, more action, more conversations. Besides, we all know Loki's a man of very few words until he stops being an overgrown child. ;) Anyway, I own nothing except my own characters, and please review, because it's the only way I'll know if y'all are enjoying this or not. If you're following or favorite-ing, thank you! Makes my day!

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Chapter Two: Chocolate Coated

Song: "Enchanted" by Taylor Swift

"Table for two, please," Grace said to the small, dark-skinned man standing behind the podium just inside the entrance to the bakery.

Loki found himself surrounded by the smell of freshly baked bread and dim overhead lighting. It was not unpleasant. The room was painted a warm cream, and there were fabric-covered seats lining the walls with metal tables in front of them. Silver chairs sat opposite the fabric seats, and each table had a small candle in the center. The man nodded, picked up two menus, and walked them toward a small table toward the back of the restaurant.

Grace stepped in front of Loki, walking briskly past him, brushing lightly against the forest green cotton pullover framing his chest. His initial reaction was one of annoyance bordering on anger; who was this mortal peasant - a woman, no less - to think she could walk ahead of a man born to be a king? But then, looking down at his clothing - simple Midgardian garments he had been sent with, courtesy of Thor's companion, Jane, no doubt - he wouldn't believe he was royalty if he didn't know better.

He sighed dramatically, but she didn't hear him - she was already halfway to the table, still hanging tightly to her bag with one leather-gloved hand and loosening her scarf with the other. He followed her, and waited for her to be seated before sitting down himself. He may have been a prince, but he was also, in some respects, still a gentleman. He blamed his adoptive mother for that. He resented it, because he was in no mood to be a gentlemen right now. He wasn't even truly sure what he was doing here - perhaps he should have simply stayed the course on his walk through the park… and yet, as Grace pulled her shoulder-length hair into a low, loose tie at the base of her neck, he noticed that her skin was almost as pale as his (or, at least, as pale as his skin appeared) and found himself wondering if it was as cold.

After they had ordered and received two mugs of what Grace described as the restaurant's "famous" hot chocolate, there was an uncomfortable silence. Although she had insisted that Loki join her for this outing, she now seemed unsure of what to say. Loki, for his part, was not going to initiate conversation. What could he possibly have in common with this mortal in the first place, and in the second, why would he care to find out? She was here to amuse him, not the other way around. A few moments passed, and Grace noticed she was still wearing her gloves. She removed them and placed them in the bag she had removed from across her shoulder and laid on the table next to the wall.

"I still can't thank you enough for stopping that asshole," she finally said. "Really. You have no idea."

"It was nothing," Loki replied. "It was not even intentional. He simply ran into me."

"But you must have done _something_. The guy had a _gun_, for God's sake." _God's sake_. Loki smirked at the irony.

"I did nothing. He ran into me, fell, and then ran away." He hesitated, and then took a small sip of the chocolatey liquid in front of him. It filled his icy body with something that felt almost comforting, a warmth that filled his throat and spread to his toes. He hesitated, and then said, "I… enjoy this."

Her brow furrowed for just a second, clearly taken aback at his choice of phrase. "Uh, I'm glad?" She smiled slightly, and took a sip from her own mug. "If you don't mind me saying, you look like you needed it."

At this, Loki himself was taken aback. "Excuse me?"

"I don't mean to be mean, it's just…" she trailed off, considering her words carefully, chewing her bottom lip. "You look… tired. And not many people are just wandering around the park at night. Homeless people, mostly. So, you know, it really was the least I could do, getting you something warm to drink."

"Homeless?" Loki replied, appalled that she would think he was some vagabond, begging for handouts on the street like so many he had seen in his short time here. "I am not-"

"Oh my God," she interrupted, her eyes widening. At this, Loki noted, they had shifted color from a steely grey to almost a bright blue. _ How curious,_ he thought. _ As if her eyes change with her emotions. _"I am so sorry. I swear. Sometimes my mouth just… goes. I didn't mean to imply - I mean, you're not?"

He found himself again keeping his emotions carefully checked; if he was not careful, he knew, he could revert to his Frost Giant form and, while he did not particularly care whether the humans were frightened of him - in fact, he might prefer it - above all else, he wished to return to Asgard to exact revenge against Thor and Odin, and wreaking any sort of havoc right now would only turn that plan on its head. Lost in this thought, he realized Grace was staring at him, still wide eyed, obviously afraid, rightfully, that she had offended him.

"I most certainly am not homeless," Loki replied, with an eerie calm in his voice. "I simply… have been temporarily displaced." He shifted slightly in his seat, eyes cast to the side, lips pursed. Grace's face relaxed, and she tilted her head. A section of her hair came loose, falling into her eyes. She brushed it back behind her ear, to no avail.

"I'm… sorry. I really didn't mean to offend you. You just seemed a little lost, that's all." She paused, considering whether to go on. "So… Luke… where are you from, originally?"

Loki did not know how to answer this question.

"I… am from outside this country." It wasn't exactly a lie, not that that would have mattered coming from the God of Mischief and Lies.

"I kind of figured. Your accent sounds kind of British, but not really. I can't place it."

"I am not surprised." He grew weary of this conversation, and it showed in his response. The truth was that he was simply weary in general but also weary of answering questions. Always, always answering questions. Questions from SHIELD when they held him, questions from Odin upon his return, questions from Thor about their "brotherhood." He was so tired of being observed as one might observe a wild animal. She seemed to sense the darkness growing around him, because she suddenly stood, gathering her belongings hastily.

"Well, Luke. Thank you again for your help today. Really, I don't know what I would have done - my phone was in my purse, and, well, as you can imagine, you lose your phone and whoever finds it basically has access to your life. Plus it's a pain in the ass to get a new one, so, you know. Like I said. Thanks." She smiled, yet avoided eye contact, pulling her peacoat over her shoulders. Loki stood, perplexed by her hastiness. As insistent as she had been to get him here, she was now dashing off just as quickly.

"Again. I did nothing." Grace reached into her bag and pulled out Midgardian currency, leaving it on the table.

"Whatever you say," she replied, her voice not quite as steady as it had been. "I still appreciate it."

They walked to the door together, Loki again following her, but this time, he didn't feel the rush of anger surge when she instinctively led the way. He was more curious, studying her the same way he had just felt resentful for others studying him. _Did she sense something about my true nature that has suddenly caused her to leave?_ He wondered if perhaps she could feel the rage boiling quietly within him and had wisely decided to exit before she came too close to speaking the wrong word at the wrong time. Or perhaps she, too, was weary.

As they exited the building, the cold night air hit her like an ice pick to the face. "Gosh, it's freezing. How are you out here without a proper coat?" He suppressed another smirk.

"Where I am from, this weather is considered temperate." As soon as he spoke the words, he suddenly realized that he was becoming entirely too familiar with this woman. "But my troubles are not your concern. I shall take my leave." He found himself bowing his head to her, but before he could lift his head back up, she had turned and headed the opposite direction from him, without so much as a goodbye.


	3. Crosswalks

**Author's Note: **Sorry it took a few days for me to update. The problem with writing is writing! I have so many ideas for this story but it takes so long to tease them out. I promise, it will all pay off. This is kind of short and a lot of description, but it will start getting more dialogue-y from here. "Luki", as my friend Tyler has taken to calling him, won't always be so clammy and dumb. :)

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Chapter Three: Crosswalks

Song: "Dangerous" by Michael Jackson

Occasionally, on his excursions, Loki would venture outside Central Park and simply wander through the streets of the city he had nearly destroyed. Much as he disliked being amongst humans, he found solace in the ability to walk undisturbed, no one caring who he was or why he was there. No one asked anything of him, and no one cared to know him. It was a small beacon in the bleak prognosis of his future. Despite his quest for power, he had, admittedly, failed to understand that with power comes the loss of anonymity - the loss of his ability to just be alone in his thoughts. Even if he had claimed his throne, someone would always need something, want something, seek answers which he may or may not have the time or patience to give. _Still,_ he thought, _I deserved that throne._ _My birthright is to rule. In the absence of that, revenge will have to do._

He pulled his black overcoat tighter around him. Although the cold still did not affect him, the Midgardian girl's words to him last week about not wearing a coat had alerted him to the fact that he should probably try to at least blend in while he was stuck here. Since most humans wore heavy coats during the colder months, he had procured one himself from a local charity store recommended to him by one of the other boarders at the rooming house. Sooner or later, I will have to find a way to obtain currency, he thought. If I am to be kept here, I should at least be in more comfortable surroundings.

The afternoon was bright and blue, crisp as a green apple. He understood autumn in this city to be a popular time for visitors, and he supposed he could understand why. It was temperate weather, the drop in temperature lessening the oppressive humidity that summer brought, and also bringing in a refreshing wind with it. and the leaves on the trees had started to turn glorious shades of red and gold, similar to the Asgardian skies if you looked far enough out. On most afternoons that looked like this, you could have found Loki sitting alone under one of his favorite hidden spots on the far-off hills, away from Thor and his warrior friends. He would settle beneath the shade of a willow and fall into one of the books from his vast collection. Thor would chide him when he came back at an invariably late hour, saying he should have been practicing his weapons skills. Thor never did seem to grasp, not since they were children, that no matter what Loki did, Loki would never have measured up to any of Asgard's standards for leadership. No matter that he was truly the one who had the mental capacity to lead with dignity and mental dexterity, if he could not swing a hammer, he would never be considered worthy. So, instead, he practiced his energies elsewhere and educated himself beyond any level Thor could have hoped to achieve, in the hopes that someday, he could take a crown by sheer brilliance. Now, it seemed, that plan was moot.

Instead, on this afternoon, he wasn't headed to any particular destination, particularly not a tree. He did have it in the back of his mind that he should find the location of that bakery with the delicious warm chocolate beverage. Not that he would have any way to pay for it, but perhaps he could find another human woman and turn on the charm for which he was so famous. He found it ironic: his birthright was a throne, and yet here he was, trying to figure out a way to pay for goods. He could not stomach the thought of ending up the beggar the human woman - Grace, was it? - had suggested him to be. And anyway, why was he thinking so hard about what she had thought of him? The opinion of a mere mortal made no difference to his path in life. He would not become a peasant, no matter what Odin thought his punishment should be. Shrugging this horrid thought off of his broad shoulders, he turned down Fifth Avenue, just outside the park borders. He had never been on this side of the park's edge, but had managed to wind up here in his absent-minded journey through the crowded streets. He stopped to take in his surroundings, to try and figure out where he was so he could figure out how to return from whence he came.

Suddenly, he found himself standing outside not the tallest, but certainly the most impressive, building he had seen in his short time here. In fact, as he gazed across the rest of the wide street across from him, he realized all of the buildings were impressive. While the one he was looking at was made with creamy marble and stone with pillars and impressive steps leading to its gargantuan doorways, another to his right was more modern and roundish, and to his left was another stone building but much less decorative than the one in front of him. Loki found himself momentarily impressed by this human creation. It was, dare he say, quite beautiful. Somewhat against his will, Loki found himself curious. Without even thinking about it consciously, he walked to the crosswalk and stood in the crowd awaiting the change of the traffic light. Perhaps he could go explore the contents of the building, or merely the building itself, for it was worth looking at on its own.

The light changed. The crowds on either side of the street swarmed toward each other like competing waves in the sea. He was doing his best to avoid making contact with anyone this time - it was bad enough the man who had collided with him in the park the other night had nearly cracked the pavement as a result of the force of bouncing off of a God. But, try as he might, just as he had nearly reached the opposite side and was mere steps from his intended destination, a shoulder slammed against his forearm, hard, and then a woman gasped and let out a shrill shriek of pain. Though his initial impulse was to simply continue walking, as he had very little concern for whomever had had the misfortune to get in his way, he was stopped dead in his tracks when he heard the strong, almost melodic voice behind him:

"You asshole, why don't you watch where you're going? And don't you think it's rude not to apologize when you HIT SOMEONE?"

It couldn't be. This city was too large, and they were miles from where they'd ran into each other last time. Perhaps if he did not turn around, she would not be there. But yet, his mischievous side would not allow him not to turn around and at least see if his ears deceived him. He felt as he did when Laufey had insulted Thor as Thor had been walking away from their initial confrontation all those years ago: _Damn._

When he turned, his eyes immediately met hers, and he took in their color, bright as the blue sky above them. Grace's alabaster face contorted into a look that was part fear, part shock, part fascination. "Luke? Is that you?"

Loki bowed his head in acknowledgment, but immediately chided himself, realizing that given her question, he should have feigned stupidity and pretended otherwise. Suddenly, the cars at the intersection began blowing their horns; the light had changed. Instead of heading off in the direction she had originally been walking - away from him - Loki saw Grace approaching him.

"I am so sorry, I didn't mean to be such a bitch, but, well… did you not realize you hit me or something? I don't know about you, but my arm is SORE." She rubbed the spot on her shoulder that had hit Loki's forearm. He wasn't hurt in the slightest, but, in the interest of blending in (that was his immediate goal, was it not?), he rubbed gingerly at the approximate spot on his upper arm where her shoulder reached.

"Why… I suppose, a little, yes. I regret it." She noticed he did not apologize for hurting her, but paid it little attention.

"So… this is weird, right? I mean, what are the odds? Then again, they say New York is smaller than it looks. So I suppose the odds could be good." Before Loki realized it, they were both standing on the sidewalk.

"The coincidence does indeed strike me as curious." At first, he thought this to be a falsehood, because he realized they were near the park, where they had first met. But, upon reflection, he was not lying. It did strike him as a bit bizarre that, of all the places and all the people, he ran into this same Midgardian woman, on a different day and at a different time, and near the opposite end of the enormous park from where they had first encountered one another.

He hated to admit this. He did not want to be distracted from his plot of revenge by anything other than what he deliberately chose as a distraction. More than anything, he longed to get away from this woman. And yet, he found himself standing there, not saying anything, but simply watching her eyes. They had returned to what he now understood to be their normal grey color, but they were still affixed to his own.

"So," Grace said, zooming right along in the conversation as fast as the cars on the street. "Where are you headed?"

Loki hesitated. He did not want company, particularly Grace's. But, then again, she probably would just follow him anyway, so he came forth with it.

"I was going to visit this… building."

"You mean The Met?" She tilted her head toward the impressive building with the columns and impressive stone. "It really is stunning. Both inside and out. People are so interested in the art inside that they don't appreciate the architecture outside. Have you ever been?"

"No," he replied. _So it is an art museum. Surely Midgardian art cannot be as impressive as art from other worlds. This should be entertaining if nothing else._

"Oh! Well, good thing we ran into each other, then. I have a membership, thanks to my boss. And I just so happen to have two membership cards because it's a family plan. So you can be my plus-one." Loki had no idea what she was talking about, but from what he could assume, this museum required money to enter it, and she was offering to take him with her for free.

"But weren't you on your way somewhere?" He remembered she had been walking in the opposite direction when she had run into him.

"Oh, I was just on my way home. I was working this morning, but I finished early. I was going to go to the gym. Let me make a quick call, and I'd be happy to spend a couple hours wandering around the museum. It'll be a nice break, honestly." She paused, seeming to remember his last few moments with her from the night at the restaurant, where he had turned dark and nearly sinister. "That is, if you don't mind the company. I don't want to intrude if you wanted to be alone."

Everything in Loki wanted to say, "Yes, please, go away, and if you ever see me on the street again, do not approach me, do not talk to me, I am evil and you should be terrified of me." He had tried to destroy everything she seemed to love about this city, after all. But he found himself unable to speak these words, despite his deepest desire to do exactly that. It was as if his tongue had been tied, unable to be truly menacing. He choked on his next words.

"I should not mind at all, Miss Grace." At this, she laughed.

"Miss Grace?" She repeated, not quite mockingly. "Please. Just Grace. I'm not even sure just my name will sound casual enough in your accent." Was she teasing him? He could not tell, nor did he truly want to know the answer, for fear of what he might do to her if he did know. She pulled her phone from the purse she held, the same one he had unwittingly retrieved for her, and held up her index finger in front of her while dialing a number.

"Hang on one sec, I'm just going to call my father and let him know. Be right back." She stepped a few paces down the street, her hair blowing in the breeze around her. If Loki had wanted to simply leave without her, he could have in that moment. She had her back to him, and he could have slinked off in silence with Grace none the wiser. But he could not will his body to move. Instead, he felt his green eyes were glued to her, once again studying carefully, as if memorizing her features for some sort of test later. Besides her hair fluttering around her, he noticed for the first time what she was wearing and wondered what kind of profession she was employed in. She wore an oversized knitted sweater with some sort of shirt underneath it which peeked out at the shoulders. Her pants were made of a sort of thick dark blue cloth, and they clung tightly to the curves of her legs, until they were swallowed at the knees by black, flat boots. Besides that, she wore the same scarf and gloves from the other night, but did not wear her overcoat as she had the night before.

Loki did not miss the irony that he had heeded her advice to obtain a coat for the cold weather despite his lack of need for one, and Grace now elected not to wear one despite her obvious human need for it.

Meanwhile, Grace had noticed the same fact, but found it slightly terrifying.

All the good sense in the world told her she should not be so trusting - after all, the man had not been caught yet. She also didn't know what he looked like. She knew nothing except that he was still out there. And at this point, not only she run into Luke in two different places at two different times, but that he seemed to take a slight interest in what she said - to the point that he heeded her advice to get a coat for the weather even though he said he was from a place where this weather was normal and did not affect him. That alone should have been a red flag. Perhaps he was stalking her. Perhaps that fear is what had led her to run off the other night when he had spoken so darkly to her.

And yet, she could not imagine that Luke, with his soft green eyes and wordless, gentle nods and Lady Grace-ing, could have possibly posed her any threat. Wouldn't she have some sense of it by now? And wouldn't he have come after her closer to home if he truly was stalking her? He would have no reason to know she would be here today, after all. She hadn't even planned to be here herself.

She returned to him after finishing her phone call.

"All set to see some art?"

Once again, a wordless head bow from Loki. And instinctively, once again, she led the way down the street to the museum, talking a mile a minute, with him following half a step behind her, finding it utterly bizarre that he could not find it in him to be as angry as he wanted to be.


	4. A Roof With a View

**Author's Note: **I'm making great progress on this. Or, I like to think I am. I thrive on reviews, but even without them, I hope people are enjoying this. I'm trying to bring Grace's view into the chapters just a little bit - I think it's important to keep it mostly to Loki, but we need to hear from her as well. Would you guys like to hear more from her? Less? Let me know!

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Chapter Four: A Roof With a View

Song: Butterflies by Michael Jackson

"Come on, this is the best part, and we're lucky we came today, because they're going to be closing it for the season soon!" Grace excitedly ran toward the lift as if she was a small child, and Loki was surprised she didn't tug on his sleeve in an effort to make him move faster. Loki walked as quickly as his legs could carry him, but he was growing tired after spending the last few hours devouring only some of what this gigantic museum had to offer. There was no way they would have been able to take it all in during the course of one day. By his estimation, they had barely covered half of it, if that. And he had no idea where Grace was taking him now, but she certainly seemed excited over it. Grace pushed a button and they were headed upward.

"I still can't believe you've never been to this museum, and when you see what I'm about to show you, you'll be kicking yourself." Loki very much doubted that, but he had to admit, the collection of art he had seen today was striking, even by human standards. "And if you like the park-" Grace continued, as the doors opened. "Then you'll love this."

"My, my." Loki took a few more steps forward, and turned slowly in a circle. Around him were hedges and foliage trimmed neatly framing the edges of the roof, trellises lining the inner portion. That wasn't the impressive part, though; directly in front of him laid a full panoramic view of the City itself, its lights gently beginning to flicker against the salmon-colored sky. For a fleeting moment, he imagined Heimdall gazing down upon the worlds beneath, and wondered if he was as taken with this sight as Loki found himself. He realized he was holding his breath, as if the image laid in front of him would disappear if he so much as exhaled. Turning around, he saw Grace standing behind him (probably the first time that had happened since he'd first met her), arms folded satisfactorily across her chest, a smile touched with a hint of smugness across her pink lips.

"Pleased with yourself, are you?" Loki muttered. At this, Grace's smile only became wider.

"Actually, yes. This is one of my absolute favorite places in the City. I mean, there are a lot of beautiful places here, but honestly, look at that view. Have you ever seen anything like it?" Loki's shoulders hunched. Although he had seen Asgard's expansive views of the universe, and so by comparison this sight should not have impressed him so, the fact remained that this particular sight was, quite simply, captivating. Perhaps it was because it had been so long since he was permitted to gaze upon Asgard, or any other otherworldly city for that matter, that he had begun to forget what those views looked like. But, of course, he could not tell Grace any of this.

"I have seen nothing like this." Again, it was not quite a lie. Asgard did not have quite so much of nature lain out in front of it, as the city took up most of the view from even the highest portion of the castle. Loki had managed to find hidden spots in which to read and study and practice his magic, far from the city, but he had to travel far and away to get to them, and even then, he could not see them from the castle. As he surveyed Central Park beneath the railing of the rooftop, he was astounded. Asgard and New York had many things in common: the population, the bustle, the fierceness of its inhabitants. Even the buildings seemed to shine in the same way against the lights of the universe. But there were differences so stark that it reminded Loki of the separation between the worlds: that there was so much quiet green space to enjoy, that so many of New York's people seemed to enjoy taking time out to enjoy it, and that there were places like this - so unlike the people Loki had grown up with. No one in Asgard would think to create buildings dedicated to arts such as the one on top of which he and Grace were currently standing. Physical strength and weapons training were such pervasive parts of life that education, culture, books, artistry - all were overlooked. His love for such things had always separated him from who he believed were his people. In this moment, drinking in his surroundings, Loki felt, for the first time, like perhaps he belonged somewhere.

It was then that he noticed Grace had approached the edge of the building as well and was standing next to him, the top of her head reaching the top of his shoulder. She seemed to be lost in her own thoughts, her eyes absently gazing out over the tops of the trees. They had spent the last three hours discussing ancient Greek and Roman statues, oohing and aahing at the Costume Institute (where Grace had squealed several times over the work of prominent fashion designers), and - this had been Loki's favorite, admittedly - visiting the arms and armor wing, where Loki had, it seemed, impressed Grace with his knowledge of medieval weaponry. Still, despite their lengthy discussion of art, they had not spoken at length of any matters of personal import. Not that Loki was complaining, as he had little use for the plights of others, but he found it odd that this woman would spend so much time with him and yet not ask him any questions about himself. Perhaps she had learned the other night that he was not one to give up personal information. He glanced down past his shoulder at her, not moving his head lest she notice him staring. Her hair blew furiously around her face, as the wind had picked up at this altitude. She didn't seem to notice, or she didn't care.

He cleared his throat. "How long have you lived in this city?"

Grace jumped, as if she did not remember she was standing next to him. "Excuse me?"

"You asked me the other day if I was from here, and I answered you. So now I am asking you a similar question. How long have you resided here?"

Grace looked visibly more relaxed. "Oh, I'm sorry. I was just a little inside my head, I guess. Anyway. I've lived here my whole life. But I don't actually live in Manhattan, I just work here. I live in Brooklyn."

Loki reflexively cocked an eyebrow. "I do not believe I have ever been to Brooklyn. Is it far?"

Grace threw her head back and let out a throaty, full laugh. "Man, you really haven't been here long, have you? Brooklyn is south of here - it's a bitch of a commute, but I can't beat the rent. My father is on the board of a housing co op so I pretty much live rent-free. If I lived in the City, I'd be paying $2000 a month to live in a closet."

Loki presumed this to be a large amount of money. _Seems relocating from the boarding house will be more difficult than I expected._

Grace continued. "I actually used to live in the City, until the whole attack by that weirdo alien guy and his little helpers." At this, Loki's head jerked back up and he stared straight ahead. Had she recognized him? He knew people had seen him the day of the attack, but surely the world could not be that coincidental. He didn't really want to know the answer to his next question, but he had to ask.

"Did you… see this… alien?" He feigned stupidity, as if there was anyone in the world who did not know exactly what had happened in New York City just over a year ago.

"No, not that day. I'd think I'd remember it if I had, anyway. Actually," she inhaled deeply. "At the time, I lived downtown. I didn't want to take advantage of my Dad's connections. But after the attack, well, let's just say Brooklyn, ironically, seemed safer."

Loki breathed a heavy sigh of relief. She had not seen him. If she had, he wasn't quite sure what he would have done. But then, if she had recognized him, surely it would have dawned on her sooner than this.

It was dark now; the stars were twinkling in the sky through the thin layer of cloud cover moving in over the harbor. In the distance, he could hear the horn of a ferry blow. Grace seemed to suddenly realize how chilly it was becoming. She hugged herself, rubbing her arms.

"I need to be going, Luke. I told my Dad I'd be by his place, like, an hour ago…" She trailed off, expectant, though Loki wasn't quite sure of what. When he failed to respond, she looped her bag across her body. "Okay, then. Well, I really hope you had fun today. I did. I forgot how much I missed this place. I don't get down here often enough. Maybe we'll run into each other again."

She was halfway to the lift when he felt himself speaking. It was involuntary, he swore it. Certainly he never would have voluntarily said what he said in that next moment. And yet, there it was, slipping off his tongue like water down a spout.

"I would like that."

She spun around and smiled at him, a smile so blindingly white that he could see despite the dark cloak of night surrounding them.

"Really? Well, what about Tuesday? I work until four o'clock, but I can be available after that."

Loki considered this. He had no idea what he would even say to her for the several hours he assumed they would be spending together. The museum today had given them topics of conversation that were ready-made; it was easy for Loki to discuss art, after all. But what would he and this woman have in common? But then, it was the chance to escape the hellish boarding house, and to enjoy a hot meal. While he did not require nourishment to survive, he did so enjoy the comforts of food and drink.

"Tuesday shall be fine. Where shall we meet?"

"Would you like to have dinner and take a walk in the park? I could show you Strawberry Fields."

"That should do well." He stood with his arms behind his back, stick straight, uncomfortable, watching her carefully for any reaction. _At least,_ he thought, _she isn't fleeing the building as she did last week._ It was only then that he realized that he actually cared whether or not that happened.

Grace turned back toward the elevator and pushed the button to call it. As she waited, she became aware that Luke was staring at her. She could feel his emerald eyes boring into her back, as if waiting for her to turn back around. It was almost as if he could look through her and see her heart beating through her skin, which felt hot and cold at the same time. Maybe she was getting sick. It was awfully cold out, and she hadn't worn a coat today. She'd been planning on being home before the temperature dropped this low.

As she stepped onto the elevator, suddenly occurred to her that he had not actually requested to see her; rather, she had suggested that they might see one another again and he had simply said that he would like that. She had been the one to suggest a definite time and day. Again, she kicked herself. She shouldn't be so trusting so soon. Particularly not with all the… complications involved. Two years ago, she would have been dewy-eyed and eager to explore the spark that could exist between herself and Luke if she would allow it. But now, she had already lost too much and had too much left to lose.

She would have dinner with him, take the walk, and then end this before it started.


	5. Fingertips and Chopsticks

**Author's Note: ** Another day, another chapter. I amaze myself. ;) I know it seems like all these two do is eat and talk... but really, it's New York, all a lot of people do is eat and talk! Thank you to everyone who's reviewed so far - it helps me know what y'all like and don't like, and I'm glad to hear that I'm keeping Loki in character. Sooner or later, he will develop into something more than he is, but for now, he just needs to be awkward as ass. Please keep reviewing and reading - your words sustain me!

* * *

Chapter Five: Fingertips and Chopsticks

Song: Step To Me by Mika

"This place is going to blow your mind," Grace said as she strode into Nobu Fifty Seven, the restaurant to which they had taken a long, slow, very nearly silent walk after meeting at the museum. Well, that was not entirely accurate. Loki had been mostly silent. Grace had chattered about the food they were about to consume. Apparently, humans considered raw fish a delicacy. He supposed he could stomach it - after all, he was a God.

It had occurred to him that, after Grace left the rooftop the Saturday prior, they had not arranged a meeting location for their outing. He also had no way to contact her. At first, he believed, this was a blessing. He had the perfect out. Nevertheless, on Tuesday, at five in the afternoon, he found himself walking toward the same place he had last seen her - the museum on the opposite side of the park. Dressed in more clothes that had been passed along to him from Thor and Jane - this time, a crimson long-sleeved t-shirt, black slacks, dress shoes, and his recently procured overcoat - he could pass for a native New Yorker. The weather was colder tonight than it had been, so he had added a thick, forest green scarf to his ensemble. He pulled it tighter around him, smoothing it down into the breast of his coat as he walked.

This is madness, he thought to himself, as he approached the intersection where they had last met. Still, he felt a pull toward this place that he could not ignore. It was as if a voice had been nagging at him most of the day, and he knew himself well enough to know that it would continue to nag at him until he satisfied it by showing it that there was no weight to its words. _She will not come_, he told himself. _There will be no more chance meetings._

However, when he stopped at the intersection of East 82nd Street and Museum Mile and gazed across the crosswalk to the traffic light, to his utter amazement, there she was, looking around as expectant as he had been un-expectant.

Grace had her hair pulled back into a low, loose braid that draped casually over her left shoulder. Her creamy white skin offset against a black peacoat, which fell to her knees over shockingly pink tights and the same black boots from the other day. Loki stared at her. She had not seen him yet. He still had time to turn and walk away, but found himself plastered to the spot, disbelieving his own eyes.

Then she had turned her gaze upon him and lit up like a fire in a hearth, causing an involuntary shiver to run through his spine.

Before he knew what was happening, he found himself being ushered past several tables full of people into a dimly lit room with wave-like walls that seemed to undulate before his eyes in a very intricate design. A bar stretched across the left side of the room, made of polished cherry wood and behind which rose several columns of barrels, which reached a ceiling draped with chandeliers made with what appeared to be silver shells. The waiter took them to a table made from what appeared to be the same wood as the bar, and Loki waited until Grace sat before settling himself into the cushioned chair.

"I have never had… what is it?"

Grace laughed the same throaty laugh that Loki had now come to know as normal. "Sushi! You've never had sushi? Great, then I get to pop your cherry."

"Pop… my cherry." It came out as more of a statement when it was intended as a question, but, ever the quick thinker, Loki realized that it was probably better to pretend to understand Midgardian slang terms than to ask for clarification. He could research the matter later. Either way, Grace did not seem to take notice of his confusion. She opened her menu, and he followed suit.

"Okay, so, here's the deal. I'm going to make some recommendations, and you should probably follow them, because most people, if you start them off with something ridiculous like Unagi, they get a bad taste about sushi overall and never go back. Make sense?"

It didn't. On top of which, he didn't particularly like taking orders from a woman, and a Midgardian woman at that. Nevertheless, he was determined to do what he had to in order to "behave" in such a way that he could con his way back to Asgard, and if that included debasing himself in this manner, he supposed it was a means to a worthwhile end.

He smiled, a tortured smile, prepared to spew forth whatever needed said to move along.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

_What in the name of Laufey's frozen testicles just happened?_

Grace was undeterred.

"Let me put it another way. If you introduce a little kid to dogs, if you start with a big dog like a Great Dane, the dog will probably bark and be loud and overbearing and the kid is probably going to freak out and cry and hate dogs forever. On the other hand, if you start the kid with, say, a Beagle or a Dachshund, something small that the kid feels like he can easily handle, he might be better with bigger dogs later on. Does that make more sense?"

"Indeed," he replied, and then, cautiously, continued. "So, then, what is the 'Beagle' of the sushi world?"

"Did you just make a joke?" Grace looked positively dumbfounded at the prospect. Head down, eyes still on his menu, black hair falling around his cheeks, the faintest hint of a smile crossed Loki's lips.

"Does it surprise you that I, too, can be a sociable creature?" His voice was liquid.

She hesitated, considering her response carefully. Recognizing her silence, his eyes lifted, piercing her through his thin black brows.

"I… think you should order the spicy bigeye tuna and the California roll."

* * *

"So that's how I ended up working in a million dollar criminal defense firm with just a bachelor's degree and a modicum of skill." Grace took another sip of her plum wine, having just finished telling Loki her story of sailing through college with no discernable direction before finding her calling after helping a friend accused of possession of a small amount of an illegal, mind-altering substance. As he was apparently without familial support, something Loki could appreciate, Grace had assisted him in finding legal representation and had stayed involved with the case, so much so that she was able to spot what she described as a "technicality in the search" of her friend's residence, which led to the closing of the case. The lawyer was impressed enough by Grace's mastery of Midgardian law that he recommended her for a position as an assistant with his law firm, which is where she had been for the last five years. She had briefly debated attending law school, but decided that she much preferred assisting lawyers to being one.

"And you are how old?"

"Twenty-eight."

"You have accomplished much in your short span of years," Loki observed.

Grace shook her head. "You could say that, but it has little to do with my career. Life never really goes the way you expect it. I'm just thankful to be alive after what happened here last year."

He winced and looked for a change of subject. Thankfully, at just that moment, their sushi arrived. Grace had ordered salmon egg and soft shell crab, rolled in white rice and wrapped in seaweed. Loki had taken Grace's advice and ordered the spicy tuna and something called the California roll, which contained crab, cucumber, and avocado. It then dawned on him that there were no eating utensils on the table. All he could see was a small paper wrapped packet with two wooden sticks in it. He removed the sticks, but was at a loss for where to go from here. He felt like an imbecile, and he did not like it one bit. He was not used to feeling stupid. The last time he felt like this was when Thor had taken him back to Asgard, muzzled. His flesh burned with a heat that did not come naturally to him then, and the feeling returned to him now. He sat with his arms stiffly at his sides, looking furiously back and forth from the sticks to his plate.

As if she recognized that he might need some assistance, having never had sushi, Grace pushed her chair back and crossed to Loki's side of the table. Before he could stop her, before he could so much as open his mouth to try, she was at his side, behind him, leaning down near him, so close that he could inhale her. He dared not move, for he had no way of knowing what his reaction might be if he did. He had not been this close to a woman - except perhaps for Sif, who hardly counted as a woman - in many, many years. The fact that he may have once nearly annihilated this woman was also not lost on him. He stared straight ahead, focused on keeping his emotions pressed down into the deepest pit of his stomach, even more than he usually had to, for he feared if he lost control of himself even for a moment…

"Holy crap, you're freezing!" Her voice was nearly lost on him, as his eyes focused squarely on the small, pale hand taking his. Her plaited hair brushed his shoulder as she leaned forward, twisted his fingers with both her hands, and placed the wooden sticks in them so that he held them just so. He kept his eyes focused on their hands, watching them carefully as she moved his fingers with her own.

"Sushi lesson two: chopstick use. Now, you move this one like this," she instructed, showing him how to wiggle the stick held between his thumb and index finger. "And then you keep the other one still. And that's how you pick up the pieces."

Suddenly, Loki had the urge to look at her close up, closer than he had been able to see her since they met. But just as quickly as she had come to him, she was back in her own seat, as if what had just happened meant nothing more than a simple lesson in the use of chopsticks.


	6. Strawberry Fields Forever

**Author's Note: **I may not get a chance to write for a couple more days, so I wanted to give you guys a nice little "ending point" before I can get to a new chapter. Thanks again for the reviews and notes - I had a dreadful bout of writer's block for a few hours and wanted to throw Loki out a window, but I managed to break him. ;)

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Chapter Six: Strawberry Fields Forever

Song: "One Of Those Nights" by Tim McGraw

"Imagine." Loki repeated the word etched into the stone on the pavement beneath them. His breath blew warm into the freezing night air, visible in front of him. "Imagine what, precisely?"

"Oh, come on. You have to know The Beatles. I'm still not entirely convinced you're not from England, frankly," Grace sputtered.

"I assure you, I am not from England. And of course I know The Beatles, I have read Mid-" He stopped himself before blurting out the fact that he had read several Midgardian history books. In his quest for power, he had decided long ago that he would read and study everything about all the peoples and lands of all the Nine Realms, including their cultures, and when he studied Earth's culture, naturally, The Beatles came up in several books. They, and John Lennon in particular, had odd ideas of what it meant to be a leader in the world. "What I mean to say is, I simply wonder if there can be a deeper meaning to what the song itself said."

"Hm. How do you mean?" Grace moved a few paces closer to the center of the circle, artfully sidestepping a candle which had been placed, quite likely, by a fan paying his or her respects to the deceased lead singer of the band, whose death had inspired the memorial itself. Loki looked up briefly and took in the scene around him. The mosaic itself was in the middle of a mixture of carved rock and well-kept lawn, bounded by Carolina Allspice, Mountain Laurel, and wild shrub roses. A mature Magnolia tree sat alongside the main walk. At the very tip of the lawns sat three Redwood trees. Benches surrounded the famous landmark, as if inviting onlookers to sit and "imagine" themselves. It was a peaceful place, a place Loki found it difficult to believe existed in an extraordinarily crowded, busy, and powerful city. It was even more peaceful at this moment, when no other tourists stood nearby, driven away by the steadily dropping temperature and the kiss of darkness that had long since touched the evening.

"I simply mean to suggest that perhaps he meant for each of us to imagine our own version of… how did it go? Living as one?" Loki stared at the rose bushes in the distance, thought back to standing in the center of a crowd in Germany, when he had suggested that humans were meant to be subjugated, that they could live in order under one ruler, under him. He would have united them, war would have ceased, suffering ended. It seemed a lifetime, several lifetimes, ago.

He suddenly became aware of the silence swallowing the air. He turned around, expecting to see her beside him, but she had taken a seat on one of the benches on the far side of the circle. He walked around the mosaic as if it were a grave, carefully approaching her. She played with the hem of her sweaterdress under her coat, purse dangling from her other hand and dragging on the pavement.

"Careful," he said, taking a seat next to her. "I suspect that is how you lost it the last time." Grace gave a rueful smile.

"Do you think Lennon would have been disappointed in how we've turned out?"

Loki tilted his head. "Now it is my turn to ask what you mean."

She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes and lifting her head back, responding on a deep exhale. "There's so much violence in this world, Luke. So much destruction. I've always been such a positive person, you know? I had a really good life. No trauma from my childhood, good parents, great friends, education, never worried about money. But there's so much evil out there, and it never became clearer to me than last year. I mean… look over there." She pointed to an old, German-looking hotel in the distance, toward the entrance to this particular section of the park. "That's where Lennon himself was shot. It always seemed so ironic to me that this guy who was the great purveyor of peace was taken out by some violent lunatic with a crush on J.D. Salinger. It could have been anyone, and yet, it had to be him. I feel the same way about Bobby Kennedy. An amazing, visionary man who just wanted to lead, to bring peace for everyone. Gunned down by another violent lunatic. How different could the world have been, if he had lived?"

Loki was stricken. He felt totally unprepared for this line of conversation, because he had no basis for comparison. He had done nothing in the last few years but destroy, nothing but be the violent lunatic of which Grace spoke. It sickened him, and yet, he understood perfectly why these men had chosen to kill their targets. They wanted notoriety. They wanted to be heard. They wanted to make someone proud of them, whether it was their wives, their idols, their fathers…

"...and then last year," Grace continued. "That psycho with his spaceship and his giant snake o'death or whatever it was, knocking over buildings, setting shit on fire… and for what? What would he have gained, even if he'd gotten what he wanted? There would have been nothing left to rule over. All he did was damage people and lives in ways he probably has no idea about." Her blue eyes blazed with intense anger and profound sadness all at once, screaming wordlessly at an unknown assailant who may never have touched her but who had obviously affected her in some way which Loki, as she had predicted, did not comprehend.

He suddenly felt as though he were going to burst open at the chest. In a flash of honesty which had never before come over him, flaring so hotly that he could almost see burn marks on his skin, Loki found himself fighting the urge to tell her everything. How he was that monster, how he was the wretched thing she spoke of, how he didn't care what violence or misery had been inflicted upon others in his wake. He clenched his teeth, bit down on his resolve, and shoved against his brain and tongue and lips with everything he had.

"What do you imagine a peaceful world to be, Luke?"

Her question gave him enough pause that he was able to focus elsewhere and fight back the urge he'd had. Thankfully, it was a loaded enough question that he was able to take time to gather his thoughts and ability to speak without arousing suspicion. When he was finally able to talk again, he had carefully considered his answer.

"I do not believe a truly peaceful world is possible, Grace. I believe the only peace that can be found is in oneself, and even then, for some individuals, it is not possible. Some people are meant to have blessed unrest throughout their lives. For if there is no evil, there cannot be good, can there?"

"And without suffering, there is no peace. Yeah, I know. I get it. I understand that more than you can know. I just wish the suffering part weren't so goddamn painful."

They sat in silence for a few moments. Loki heard the rustle of dead leaves scattering on the ground, and slid his shoes over them. They made a satisfying, dominated crunch. It was then, looking at their feet next to each other, that he noticed how small Grace's feet were compared to his own. In fact, glancing from her feet to her hands to her ears and nose and even her delicate neck, he noticed that everything about Grace was small compared to him. At his birth, he had been discarded by his birth father for not having been the normal size of the other Frost Giants. And now, for the first time in his life, he felt like the giant he was supposed to have been. Next to her, he felt powerful and yet powerless all at once.

"May I ask you a question?"

"Sure, why not?"

"If you could have peace in just one part of your life, what would it be?"

"I'm actually pretty good with where my life is," Grace said, a little too cheerfully. "I have a job I love, a family I love, enough money to keep afloat, and a cute, charming guy with an accent to have dinner with." She winked at him playfully and rearranged the braid on her shoulder.

Loki felt his face go hot. He knew the color had drained from it and wondered if he could go both blue and red at the same time.

"Speaking of that, if I want to keep making money, I should get home. I need to go into the office for a little while tomorrow and finish up a project I'm working on." She stood up from the bench and stretched, placing her purse across her frame.

"Ah, yes. I must be off as well, then. Shall I assist you in finding a method of transportation?"

"You are so weird, Luke," Grace laughed. "I'm fine. I can catch a cab. Just walk me out of the park. As you're well aware, I can't be left here unattended or people steal my toys."

And despite what he had believed possible before the precise moment it happened, a sound came from deep within him which he had not heard in years and years. He had been too composed, too focused on keeping his emotions bottled for fear of exposing his true nature. He would never have believed it if you had told him it could happen, and yet, there it was.

Looking at Grace, her grey eyes twinkling mischievously as his own might have, Loki heard himself laughing.


	7. Just the Two of Us

**Author's Note: **Sorry, y'all, no Loki this chapter! I felt Grace needed some development and some time spent on her and her alone - but he'll be back next chapter, I promise! I hope the lack of our favorite evil overlord doesn't deter you from reading and reviewing, and I hope you start falling in love with Grace the way I have. Also, enjoy meeting the new characters!

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Chapter Seven: Just the Two of Us

Song: One Step At a Time by Jordin Sparks

"Mom, if you keep cleaning my apartment when I'm gone, I swear to God I'm going to start leaving a tip on the dresser before I leave!" Grace groaned as she closed the freshly-scrubbed refrigerator, setting the milk and eggs on the counter before reaching into the oven to grab a frying pan. Someday she swore she would have a house with enough space to keep pots and pans in their proper places. For now, she supposed, at least she had enough closet space where she didn't have to keep sweaters in the pantry.

"I'm sorry, honey," Vivian Lawson said, sweeping back into the kitchen from the second bedroom, gently tugging up the sleeves on her cashmere sweater. "I don't mean to suggest that you're a less than stellar housekeeper, but, well…"

Grace removed the loaf of challah she'd just picked up from the bakery from its paper bag. She had decided to make french toast for breakfast on a whim and had called upstairs to her parents' apartment, which was directly above hers, to ask if her mother wanted to join her. Her father was out having brunch with the other co op board members, discussing god knows what renovations to make next. But then she realized she was out of bread, and had to run down to Ostrovitsky's Bakery to get some. She'd also picked up a couple lattes for the two of them, and handed one to Vivian as her mother reached past her and plucked the cutting board from its place between the toaster on the edge of the counter and the fridge.

"I know, there was pudding on the middle shelf and probably soda dripping on the ketchup bottle. It's not that I don't appreciate it, mother, but I feel terrible when you do it. It's not like I haven't lived on my own for almost ten years now." She started mixing the eggs and milk in a large silver bowl. Vivian cut the bread into several thick slices and smiled.

"I remember when you were little, this was your favorite thing to eat on Sunday mornings. You would beg me to make it, and you were even more excited when I taught you how to make it yourself."

"Which is also why you don't have to clean my house - because you taught me how to do a lot more than just make french toast." Grace playfully nudged her mother while dipping each piece of bread into the egg mixture, giving each slice a healthy coating.

"Honey," Vivian set the knife down and turned her back to the counter, folding her arms. "It's not that I don't think you can take care of things. It's just that you've got a lot on your plate. Your father and I just want to help."

"You do help, Mom, you and Daddy both. Me living in this apartment is enough of a help - it took a lot of stress off my shoulders. I never would have been able to take three months off of work if I had rent to pay. Besides," Grace motioned toward the hallway. "I already feel guilty enough, you having to be here so often." Vivian looked almost hurt, but immediately recovered when she saw the guilt-stricken look on her daughter's avoidant face.

"Sweetheart, you're our daughter. And she's our granddaughter. Why wouldn't we want to look after her while you work… or, dare I say, get a social life again?"

Grace began placing the challah into the hot frying pan, trying to pretend her mother hadn't just said what she said.

"Could you hand me a plate, please?" Vivian reached into the cabinet above the left side of the counter and continued talking.

"When you asked your father to stay a little later with Amy last Tuesday, I figured it was just you going to the gym a little later than usual. But then when you asked me to babysit last night, well, I was thrilled, to be honest. It's about time you started going out with people again. Now," Vivian said. "How are the girls? Is Stacy's husband still a schmuck, or did they work out the stay-at-home issue?"

"Oh," Grace said casually. "Yeah, I actually… didn't see the girls last night." The french toast sizzled in the pan and she replaced it with a new slice, adding the finished one to the steadily growing pile on the plate. "Can you please get out the syrup?"

Vivian did as her daughter asked, but wasn't willing to let the subject go. "Well, then who did you see? Work friends?"

_Typical Jewish mother_, Grace thought to herself. _Only one way to deal with this._

"Nope, and anyway, it really doesn't matter, because I'm not seeing him again." She said this as though she were telling her mother she needed more bread sliced.

At the word "him," Vivian nearly dropped the syrup as she was putting it on the table with the butter. The glass bottle clattered against the granite tabletop, and she set it upright before sitting down in one of the upholstered chairs. Smoothing her age-lined hands over her chin-length silver hair, she chose her words carefully. She knew, after twenty-eight years raising this child, that Grace could be hotheaded when she felt cornered.

"Grace," Vivian began, taking a deep breath.

Oh, here we go.

"It's not that I don't want you to be happy, honey, I do. Especially after everything you've been through. But you do realize that you have to be extraordinarily choosy and careful given-"

Grace cut her off, taking the frying pan from the fire and tossing it into the stove with the faucet running cold water over it.

"Given what, mother? Which part? The part where I don't know who he is, or the part where I have a kid and you never know anyway, or-" She sighed and rested her hands on the edge of the sink, staring into the residue in the pan. Hadn't she just told her mother that she wasn't planning on seeing Luke again? She hadn't even given him her phone number at the end of the night. He had walked her out of the park, even opened the cab door for her. But she had promised herself she would end it, and she had.

"Grace, I don't think you're stupid. I know you know the risks. I just don't want you to get hurt - again." Her mother crossed the kitchen and put her hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Of course you should date again, whenever you're ready, but with a baby… all I'm saying is that whoever you date, you need to take it really slowly and make sure he is everything he says he is."

Grace shook her head. "I'm not dating him, Mom. I don't even know how to get in touch with him. I took him to dinner to thank him from saving my purse from a mugger, we ran into each other one more time at the museum, and then we had dinner and went for a walk. But I know you're right," she said, with the slightest hint of sadness. "Amy is too important to me to risk bringing anyone into her life who might hurt either of us again."

Vivian worried that perhaps she had given Grace the wrong idea. "Gracie, honey, it's not that every man out there is going to hurt you, or that you should assume they would. But we just don't know who he is, and I know this city is huge, but you just never know. You're my baby," she said, turning Grace to face her, cupping her face in her hands. "You're both my babies. I just worry about you."

Vivian might be a nudzh, but she meant well. "I know, Mom. Now, let me go get Amy up." Grace smiled, and put on her best New York, Jewish accent. "I spent awl this time slaving ovah a hot stove, aftah awl!" Vivian let out a laugh so similar to Grace's that they could have been mistaken for one another and went back to the cabinet to get a few more plates while Grace slipped down the hallway to the back bedroom.

Amy's smiling face greeted her from her white wooden crib. Her chubby little fingers were wrapped around the bars, and she was trying to pull herself up to stand. When she saw Grace, she immediately burst into a toothy smile, bright red curls falling around her face. She was overdue for her first haircut, but Grace couldn't bear the thought of chopping off any of Amy's beautiful locks. Grace leaned against the door and watched in silence as her baby girl let out a barely audible grunt and braced her feet against the bottom of the bars while grabbing toward the middle.

With every inch of progress Amy made, Grace's smile grew wider. She'd watched babies do this before, of course, but the cliche was true - it was so different when it was your own child. It was hard to believe it had been just eight months since she had brought Amy into the world. And since that day, Amy had hit her milestones so quickly, it was dizzying. She got her first tooth when she was just three months and already had a full set, tiny little chicklets inside her perfect petal-pink lips. She'd sat up when she was six months and had started crawling just about the same time. Soon enough, Grace knew, she would be walking and running, and then there would be no stopping her - just one of the many ways Grace saw herself reflected in her daughter. And now, slowly, all the while watching Grace, who was nodding her head in encouragement, Amy exerted enough strength that she was able to pull herself forward and struggle to her feet. When she steadied herself, Amy focused her blue eyes squarely on Grace,

"Yayyyyy!" Grace said, clapping for her daughter's success, and Amy responded with an awkward but enthusiastic clap for herself. "Good job, baby!"

"It's like looking in a mirror, isn't it?" Vivian said, suddenly appearing behind Grace, who smiled.

"When did you say I first stood up?" Grace crossed the yellow area rug and picked Amy up, holding her on her hip for support.

Vivian sighed, as if she had to struggle to think back that far, when Grace knew that her mother had all but memorized every milestone in Grace's life. "Oh, I'd say… seven or eight months?"

"Yep, then it's like looking in a mirror." Grace sniffed the air, and then lifted her daughter to her nose. "Oh, phew. I at least hope I smell better now than I did back then…" She laid Amy, who now had a very self-satisfied look on her face, down on the changing table and began stripping the dirty diaper from her, dropping it into the Diaper Genie (which was the best gift her parents had bought her since the Barbie Dreamhouse at age six).

Vivian laughed. "The table's all set whenever you're ready. I put the french toast in the oven on 'warm' to keep it from getting cold. Oh, and by the way, your phone beeped while you were in here, so I brought it with me." She set it down on the changing table next to Amy, and headed back to the kitchen.

"Thanks," Grace called over her shoulder. She finished wiping her daughter and secured a new diaper around her bottom.

"There, that should make you feel better. Mommy doesn't want you growing up too fast, but," she cooed. "I really hope you potty train as fast as you've learned everything else." She blew a raspberry onto Amy's tummy, and Amy let out a high-pitched squeal of delight.

"Okay, now let's see which one of the lawyers at Mommy's office can't leave her alone today." Sure enough, there was a message on her cell phone, which was set to intercept voicemails left at her desk phone at work. Usually a voicemail on Sunday meant one of the lawyers had misplaced a document they needed for court on Monday morning and she would have to either run into Manhattan to find it, taking two hours of her day to do something that would take five minutes once she got there. She was already annoyed when she dialed her voicemail password, until she heard the message on the other end, spoken in a soft, fluid, accented voice she immediately recognized.

"Um, hello, this… this is Luke. I apologize for calling you at your place of work, but I did not know any other way to get in touch with you. I do not know whether or not you wish to see me again, because you did not give me a way to reach you. I found your phone number from the law firm you told me you work at…"

_Damn_, she thought. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. _She realized the wine must have gotten the better of her the night before, and she had blurted out the name of the firm in the process of telling him how she'd ended up in her profession.

"...and I do not know if you realized it, but you dropped a small set of photos from your belongings before you stepped into the automobile last night, and I want to return them to you. I obviously have no use for them, so if you would like them back, I will make myself available to you in Strawberry Fields tomorrow afternoon at five thirty. That's all, then."

The message ended abruptly, and Grace stood looking at her phone as if she expected Luke to pop through it as if in a cartoon. Amy reached for the phone with drool-covered fingers, and Grace quickly tossed it onto the overstuffed armchair in the corner of the room. She gazed at her daughter's face, her red hair, her blue eyes, her innocence. And then it dawned on her - Luke now knew her last name. Which meant he could easily find her if he wanted to. Which meant that it was entirely possibly that she and her daughter might be in danger. After all, she didn't know who the guy was, what he looked like, where he lived, what he did. But then, if Luke really wanted to find her, wouldn't he have just showed up at her house rather than bothering to leave a message at her office?

Everything had suddenly become so complicated. Her head hurt. She couldn't deal with all the conflicting thoughts swimming in her head, drowning her. So, instead of dealing with them, she picked Amy up, headed to the kitchen to enjoy their breakfast, and left her phone and Luke exactly where they were: out of sight, out of mind.


	8. Lose Yourself

**Author's Note: **I am so sorry for the wait on this chapter, y'all. I got a terrible, awful case of the flu and basically spent the last week in bed with a 104 degree fever and could barely stay awake long enough to eat, much less write. Hopefully the next week or so will help me recover and I'll be able to write more. Your reviews sustain me, and make me want to write more. Please enjoy this (woefully short) chapter and I'll be back to normal in the next week or so!

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Chapter Eight: Lose Yourself

Song: "Not Myself" by John Mayer

All day Monday, Grace was distracted. She accidentally hung up on not one, but two clients. She misplaced an affidavit and had to get it re-signed by the partner on the case, which made her look and feel like an idiot. She even managed to leave her desk keys at home, which meant that HR had to lend her a spare set - which, of course, meant that the evil bitch in charge of that particular area of office policy and procedure made a mental note of it for her file. It was now 4:45 p.m., and Grace felt herself getting more and more anxious as quitting time approached.

She was the only one left in the corner of the floor she shared with about twenty other assistants and their twenty attorneys. Her own boss had left an hour ago, after asking if she was okay. Everyone seemed to ask her that, even a year after everything had happened. Maybe she just noticed it more today because she'd been so on edge, but it was bothering her. Truth be told, she'd been fine until recently - until she met Luke, in fact. Since that day, she'd been generally distracted for no discernable reason. She felt almost as if she were being watched, though she knew that was ridiculous.

She stared absently out the window behind her cubicle, gazing at the dozens of other buildings within her sight, rubbing the back of her neck with one hand. How could she have been so stupid as to tell a near stranger where she worked? Especially given everything she stood to lose, and everything she already had lost because of random acts of violence, she was furious with herself. Now, the damage was done. So now all that was left was mitigation and escape, two things with which Grace had extensive experience.

Meanwhile, Loki had arrived at their designated meeting place early, holding a thermos of hot chocolate, which he had procured from the Y's kitchen. It was not nearly as good as that which he had shared with Grace at the City Bakery, but it would suffice on this grey November day. He sat on the same bench they had shared just two nights earlier, pondering his current predicament. He was running dangerously low on the small amount of money that Thor and Jane had given him, and he was quite sure that that source of funding was not likely to come through again. He had tried sweet-talking several people in his customary language of lies, but for some very odd reason, New Yorkers seemed to be able to see through his particular brand of skullduggery. This left him with two options: panhandling or some form of employment, neither of which were appealing options to his mind. He was a prince on another planet - he had no idea how one might find employment on Asgard, let alone on Earth. It was one of the few subjects in which he was not well versed, because he had no reason to be. It was simply unthinkable that he should ever have to work to survive. Yet here he was, seriously having to consider what he might be qualified to do.

It made him want to vomit.

Thankfully, he did not have to waste too much time dwelling on such gag-inducing thoughts, as before long, a familiar figure hurtled down the tree-lined path toward him. He rose from the bench to greet her. Her pace was quick enough to have brought a flush to her pale cheeks. She was as put-together and lovely as she ever was, but Loki could sense a change in her usual demeanor. She seemed hurried, tense, and distant.

"Hi, Luke. Do you have the pictures?" She crossed her arms across her chest, hugging herself, and Loki could not tell whether it was to defend against the bitter cold of the approaching winter season or against some invisible threat of which he was unaware.

"Always a pleasure to see you as well," Loki said, pointing out her lack of social graces. "Yes, I have your photographs." He hesitated, and then it dawned on him. Perhaps this human girl might be of use to him after all. "Would you… would you like some cocoa? Admittedly, it is not as good as that in which we partook last week, but…" Grace held her hand up in front of her, palm out.

"Luke, I can't. Do this, I mean," she said, her voice on edge.

"Do what, might I ask?" He raised a dark, sculpted eyebrow, confounded by the vague words.

"Look, whatever you're thinking might happen between us, it's just not going to. I don't know how you and I keep running into each other, whether it's just some weird coincidence or you're following me or what. And I really don't know why I told you where I work, and I get that you were just trying to be helpful, but I just don't go around giving out personal information to people I barely know, and-"

She stopped when she realized the look on his face was not one of anger, hurt, or even dejection. She also realized he was not even trying to argue with her, as one might expect a man to do when a woman is in the process of rejecting his advances.

Instead, he stood there with a blank expression on his face, simply holding out the plastic-covered packet of photographs, which he had procured from his inside coat pocket.

"What?" It came out as more of a statement than a question.

"Is this not why you came? To retrieve these?" Loki stretched his hand further toward her, flexing his palm. Grace gingerly took the pictures from him and subconsciously clutched them to her chest.

"I will have you know that the only reason I called you at your place of work is because I had no other way to contact you. I certainly have better things to do with my time than follow you or arrange meetings between us. In fact, you do realize that you yourself have suggested all of our outings, do you not?" Grace felt as though she had been slapped.

Loki continued, placing his hands behind his back as he had done so many times in the past. "At any rate, I was certain that, as you were so concerned about the contents of your bag the night you lost it, you would have wanted back any items that fell from it, including those photographs. I am sorry if you mistook my actions as malicious. Had I meant you harm, I could surely have caused it by now, but I did not. And tonight, I simply offered you a warm drink because it is utterly dismal tonight, and I happened to have a surplus of my own beverage. But, no matter. I shall not bother you henceforth." The words fell from his thin, wet lips without spite or anger, but rather, matter-of-factly. Grace noticed his pale, emotionless face seemed even paler in the moonlight.

He turned to walk away, his ebony hair dangling around the nape of his neck, hands closed into fists as he stiffly placed one foot in front of the other. He walked proudly, head held upright, as if he were royalty.

Grace stood with her mouth agape, considering his words carefully. Her first reaction was to spit fire back at him, tell him what an asshole he was, how she knew she had been right, but frankly, she couldn't, because what he said wasn't untrue - she did want the photographs back, he didn't have another way to contact her, and maybe he really was just offering her a warm drink. In fact, in her stunned silence, she realized that he was right - at no point other than this last phone call had Luke initiated any of their outings or contact. He barely spoke when they were together, in fact. There was quite literally no rational reason for her to distrust him, and she had promised herself long ago, when the world had fallen to pieces around her and she had begun to pick them up, she would not become that about which she had heard sorrowful tales, a person who could not believe in the goodness of others. She would not let hate and hardness take more from her than had already been taken in those burning, angry hours.

In her head, she knew there was almost no chance that what had happened before would happen again. Still, she had momentarily allowed that fear, however irrational, to get the better of her. It pained her, because it was this path that led to hurting others as a result of being hurt herself, and then? Then, the evil that had entered her life would consume it. Consume her.

_You will not consume me._

"Luke." Her voice cracked as she spoke, as if it was not her own. She put the photographs in her jacket pocket and shrugged her shoulders. "I… I'm sorry."

He turned around slowly and retraced his steps toward her, hands still tightly balled into fists, but a calm, inquisitive look in his piercing jade eyes.

"For which part? Insinuating I have less than gentlemanly intentions or maligning me for going out of my way to return your personal property?" Again, she noticed, his voice was not sharp, but cool and collected, as if he were merely giving a pedestrian directions to the nearest grocery store. Still, he was clearly hurt, and Grace could understand why.

"Don't be like that. Okay, I guess that's not fair either," she said, putting her hands up to her forehead and sinking down onto a bench. "It's a long story. I overreacted. I know I overreacted. It wasn't fair to you. I've known you for like a week, that's all, and it just freaked me out that I've given you such personal information, and that you found me at work… it's not something most guys would do, you know? I mean, most guys wouldn't bother going out of their way just to return some pictures that meant nothing to them."

A slow smile crept across Loki's face as he joined her, remembering the hot chocolate in the thermos which he had almost left here in his haste to get away from her. He reached down next to the bench and retrieved it, pouring the warm, slightly runny liquid into the makeshift cup the lid provided. He handed it to Grace, who drank deeply. Loki guessed she must have been colder than she let on.

"Most men would not stop a mugger in his tracks for a young woman they did not know, either, Grace."

At last, Grace's face lit up the way Loki had become accustomed to seeing it.

"I guess there aren't many men like you, to be honest."

"Correction, dear Grace," Loki replied. "There are no men like me."


	9. A Christmasukkah Miracle

**Author's Note: **Totally superfluous chapter, I suppose. I wanted to write a holiday chapter, and also give a little more closeness to these two characters. Keep in mind, this isn't a romance (yet!), but there needs to be some affection shown. Loki didn't get enough hugs as a kid! The next chapter will develop a few more avenues for him to grow and change in a practical way - but for now, just enjoy the schmaltz. ;)

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Chapter Nine: A Christmasukkah Miracle

Song: "Underneath The Tree" by Kelly Clarkson

"Come on! You can't tell me you've never seen a Christmas tree! I'm Jewish and I've seen Christmas trees!" Grace gasped with astonishment, sitting across from Loki at City Bakery on a frigid December late afternoon, the sun just beginning to set, enjoying yet another familiar cup of cocoa, along with some freshly baked challah and honey for dipping. Loki broke off another piece of the sweet bread, relishing its warmth as it passed his lips. He rolled his eyes.

"I assure you, I would not lie about something so trivial. I am unsure why you mort- I mean, why Christmas trees are so meaningful to people. After all, it is merely a Pagan custom adopted and diluted by a more organized religious group for the purpose of assimilating converts more easily." Grace blinked at him in disbelief.

"Okay, Scrooge. That's it. We're going down to Rockefeller." She opened her purse and tossed some money down on the table. "Get your coat on. I'm going to show you exactly why Christmas trees are so great. Even if you are a Jew, or, you know, you." She stuck her tongue out at him, and Loki flinched. She is so very odd.

Grace was already halfway to the door when Loki caught up to her. Yanking on his coat and scarf, his lanky legs allowed him to push past her and he held the door for her as a gentleman would.

"Hey, thanks!" She smiled and ran toward the curb, arm outstretched to hail a cab, which appeared almost immediately. Loki had noticed it always seemed easier to get a driver's attention when Grace was with him than when he was by himself. Although he had only used a cab once since his arrival in the city, preferring to walk almost everywhere for the solitude it provided.

They climbed into the yellow car, and Grace leaned forward toward the bespectacled driver, who smelled vaguely of spices and sweat. "Rock Center, please. Take Fifth all the way up." The driver nodded knowingly and stepped on the gas, jerking the car forward.

Settling back into the seat, Grace lifted her hair out from the back of her coat and looked at Loki. "You know, I was about to ask how it was possible that you grew up not even knowing what a Christmas tree looked like, but then I realized we've been having these lunch and dinner dates for over a month now, and I still don't know where you're from. All I know is that you're not from England."

Loki hated this question, and it seemed it was asked of him every other day by someone. He supposed it was because of his accent, but there really was no way to answer the question in a way a mortal would understand. He wished he had just gone along with her guess the first time she had asked and said he was from England. It would have made things much easier. He knew, however, that at this point, he had to give her some sort of concrete answer. They had known each other far too long for him to get away with being intentionally vague for much longer.

"I am from a place that is farther away than is feasible to visit. I can understand how you might take me for English, given my accent, but I suppose that if I had to give you an approximation, I am closer to Norwegian than any other ethnicity. We do not celebrate Christmas, or any other holiday, for that matter, but I am well-read enough to know about most Eastern and Western holidays." Grace opened her mouth as if to ask another question, but before she could, the cab lurched and stopped suddenly.

Grace opened her purse to hand the cab driver money, but Loki stopped her and pulled a crisp ten dollar bill from his inside coat pocket. If he was to continue taking advantage of her in order to find suitable employment (in other words, employment that would not be entirely degrading to someone of his status), he felt it was best to maintain at least a modicum of balance in their relationship so that she did not feel taken advantage of. He continued to run dangerously low on funds, but could spare the ten dollars the cab ride had cost. Handing the cab driver the bill, he exited the car and followed Grace to the curb, narrowly avoiding two other cars in the process. All the wars he had seen, and he had almost been taken out by just a few tons of metal on more than one occasion.

Tony Stark would have loved to see that, Loki was sure.

"Follow me," Grace said, turning her head to him and motioning forward. He caught merely a glimpse of her in the light and was almost taken aback. The sun was low and glowing brightly, casting its warm blaze onto Grace's chocolate-colored hair, giving it an almost ethereal glow. Her grey eyes were blazing blue again. Loki had taken note every time this happened and wondered if she, too, had noticed it.

She started down the pathway between two squat buildings on either side of them toward one exceedingly tall building that reminded Loki of the Empire State Building, but slightly shorter. He wasn't really paying attention to what lay ahead of them, but was instead focused on not running into any of the seemingly thousands of people swarming the area.

"Now," Grace stopped suddenly, and stood directly in front of Loki, looking up into his eyes with the expression of a child on her face, eyes shining in the deepening sunset. "Tell me this isn't just the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?" She stepped to his left side, allowing him to see past her.

The first thing he noticed were the flags. Incredible, vibrant colored flags from numerous countries of Midgard, lined one right next to another as if soldiers standing at attention. They were swaying in the cold air, making flapping noises as they moved. Directly below them, in a sunken plaza, was a giant ice-skating rink, with dozens of people circling the ice, some barely staying upright, others making elaborate designs in the ice as they skated past their less-talented brethren. But, of course, the centerpiece of the entire place was the 60-foot-tall Norway Spruce sitting just above a huge golden statue of the Greek titan Prometheus. The tree was dripping with brightly colored, twinkling lights, and seemed to radiate its own warmth outward. He turned his head slowly from one side to the other, taking in the entire shining scene, which, to him, appeared to be a living, breathing work of art.

Grace, meanwhile, watched him closely, trying to gauge his reaction. She couldn't believe that he had never seen a Christmas tree, but figured if you are going to see one for the first time, it better be the most impressive one in the world. He was staring up at the enormous tree in front of them, green eyes sparkling with the reflection of the lights, his strikingly chiseled face relaxed and, if Grace hadn't known better, slightly awestruck. His raven hair was slicked back but looked soft, feathery almost. He was standing so close to her that she caught the scent of him - comforting, but strong, like pine and woodsmoke - and breathed him in deeply, hoping he wouldn't notice. She suddenly realized that for once, he didn't look completely sour - and that he was quite handsome when he didn't look like he'd caught a whiff of something foul.

With a start, Loki came out of his light-induced trance. Something warm and soft was pressed into his left palm. It was a few moments before he had the nerve to look down to his left side, and when he did, he had to struggle to keep himself from reacting, lest Grace see emotions rise from him which he could not risk a mortal seeing. He could only jerk his head back up, stare back at the tree, and try to reconcile what he thought he should be feeling against what he actually was feeling. Which, at the moment, was warm.

At some point, standing in front of this symbol of the human capacity to love and unite around a shared belief in good will toward other men, Grace had taken Loki's hand in her own and was holding on with all her strength. Without realizing it, he felt his fingers intertwine with hers. _What could it hurt?_ He thought. _If it gets me closer to what I need._ But at that moment, he couldn't even remember what that was.

"Luke," she finally said after what seemed like hours of silence. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yes." He swallowed hard, feeling as though he was back on the bridge in Asgard with Mjolnir sitting on his chest.

"Don't you find it odd that we've been hanging out for these last couple months and I don't even know your last name?"

_Damn._

"I suppose you are right. It _is_ odd," he replied, trying to avoid responding to the implication in her question.

Neither of them looked away from the glow of the tree, and neither of them let go of the other's hand.

"Luke?"

"Yes?"

"Give it up already."

Loki sighed, resigned.

"Laufeyson. My name is Luke… Laufeyson."


	10. It's Just What We Do

**Author's Note: **Grace is about to find out Loki's secret. No, not that one. But this will take us into a new part of the story. He's going to have to learn to accept help from others - get by with a little help from his friends, if you will. Think that's gonna be easy? HA. Sooner or later, he'll have to return the favor. PS, turns out, there's nothing better to do when you're sick than write! :)

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Chapter Ten: It's Just What We Do

Song: "First Time" by Lifehouse

"You're sure you don't want to ice skate?" Grace said, with a half-hopeful glance in Loki's direction. "I promise I won't laugh when you fall on your ass!"

"I beg your pardon," Loki said, offended. "But I assure you, I could skate circles around you. I simply do not feel the need to perform as a trained monkey."

Grace laughed irreverently. They had spent the last couple hours walking around Rockefeller Center's perimeter, looking at the tree from various angles, watching skaters make designs in (or fall on) the ice in the rink, and listening to the holiday carols being pumped in through the speakers hidden in the trees lining the plaza. Loki had never actually heard most of the songs, but according to Grace, they were a great Christian and, partially, American tradition around the winter holidays. She was Jewish, she explained, so they really were just enjoyable as any other music might be for her, but she appreciated the secular value of the "holiday season," as she put it. To Loki, for all the humans complained about their being dreary and grey, he would take this brightly lit, cheerful Midgard winter over the ice blue, frozen wasteland of Jotenheim any day. And for all he had seen in his months of exile after he'd fallen from Asgard's bridge, as much as he hated being trapped in this prison, at least Midgard had celebrations and some amount of joy within it.

As they approached the place where they had first stood on this night, Loki's hand burned wildly where Grace had touched it on this spot just a few hours before. Neither of them had said anything about that moment, and it had passed as quickly as it had come. As soon as Loki had told her his surname, she had let go and suggested they take a walk. He had readily agreed, not wanting whatever he had been feeling at that moment to linger. Now that they'd returned, the feeling had come back, even though her touch hadn't. He adjusted the fleece scarf around his neck and pulled on his leather gloves.

"I must be going, Grace. As always, I am charmed and delighted to have been in your presence." He turned to head back through the gardens, but Grace put her hand on his upper arm to stop him. His muscles tightened at her grasp and his eyes involuntarily squeezed shut. He turned back around.

"Let me share a cab with you. It's late, and you must have a long walk home," Grace suggested. "I usually don't cab it home, but it's really getting late, and I don't want to take the train anyway."

Loki realized he had about ten seconds to come up with a plausible reason why Grace could not share a cab with him. She knew he lived in Manhattan so he couldn't reasonably offer to see her home first, since she lived all the way in Brooklyn. It was only a twenty minute walk to the Y from where they were, but he knew Grace was stubborn and would not take no for an answer. And he really had no good alternative in mind he could misdirect them to. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought this far ahead - after all this time they'd spent together, it was a wonder she, with her curious nature, hadn't already asked him where he lived.

"I do not wish to trouble you," Loki said. "It really is a short walk, and, as you know, vagrants and thieves pose no threat to me." He smiled, hoping this would placate her.

"Nonsense," Grace replied. "I don't doubt you're able to defend yourself, but it's freezing out here, and I'm already getting a cab. It would be silly for you to walk." She was already hailing a yellow car down before he could argue any further. His silver tongue tied, he could not lie his way out of this situation. She was going to find out where he lived, and probably be either terrified of him, viewing him as the vagrant she'd originally believed him to be, or pity him as so many others had - and pity, he could not stand. His pride would not allow it, not from any Midgardian, but particularly not from her.

But there was no way around or out of it: all the hard work he had put into manipulating Grace was about to come to an end once she realized that he truly was what she had believed him to be from the day they met, and that he had been deceiving her the whole time.

They climbed into the cab, and Loki leaned forward to the driver. "Sixty-third and Central Park West," he said, very nearly a whisper. "And be quick about it." He wanted this torture overwith.

Grace noticed a change in his demeanor as they rode through the streets of the City, shining brightly with the holiday season. Storefronts were lit with garlands and lights, restaurants had painted "frost" on the edges of their windows, a border to the patrons dining within, as if trying to make human Christmas cards. Grace stared out her window and put her hand on the seat between them, an offering. Loki did not notice; he was too wrapped up in plotting his next move, finding a new route after this one inevitably ended. He was sure she would be angry with him, and was preparing for a thorough lashing out. At the very least, she would have questions he was not equipped to answer.

The cab ride seemed to take years, although it was really only minutes. It might have even been quicker for Loki to have walked, given all the traffic. As they arrived at the address Loki had given the driver and exited the cab, Grace looked around, confused. They were standing on a narrow street with a dry cleaner on one side and a YMCA on the other. There were no apartments nearby that she could see. As the cab pulled away, Loki stood with his hands in his pockets and his head down. He raised his eyes to see Grace turning in circles, obviously confused. One of her delicate hands held her scarf close to her throat, the other was lifting the brim of her knit cap up so that she could gaze toward the upper levels of the buildings on either side of them. He watched her, waiting for her to figure it out on her own, hoping he would not have to say it.

"I'm confused," she said, finally, dashing that hope. "I thought you were going home?"

"This is my home," he replied sheepishly. It pained him like a thousand needles through his spine to admit this. "I've been staying here since my arrival in New York."

It took Grace a few moments to process what he had just said. She'd been developing a friendship with this guy for months now and the whole time, he had been living in what basically amounted to a youth hostel. She realized in that moment how little she really knew about him, how little she really knew him. For a moment, she didn't know whether to be angry, hurt, or sad. She decided to go with her gut.

And her gut said to put her own feelings aside and do what she did best. She hurried toward him, purse jostling at her left side. Her boots clacked on the pavement, echoing in the silence of the night.

"Luke, why didn't you tell me? We've been spending all this time together, and you never thought to mention you're living in a- a shelter?"

"You never asked," Loki replied. It was the truth, after all. She had never asked after his living arrangements. She had merely asked where he was from. Grace's mouth opened, then snapped shut again.

"Well, this just won't do at all." She paced furiously back and forth in front of him. Loki watched her curiously. She did not seem angry, at least not as angry as he had expected. She did not even seem to care that he had deliberately left this information out of their many conversations. Actually, he could not tell how she was feeling at this particular moment, other than perhaps restless, judging by the pace at which she was walking forward and back.

"Grace, please, stop, you are making me positively queasy," he said. "I am fine. Once I find employment, I will be able to find suitable living arrangements. This is only temporary, I assure you." While he had hoped that this explanation would calm Grace down, it seemed to only serve to amp her up even further. She threw her arms up and flew into a near fit.

"Are you kidding me? You're telling me that you don't have a job, and you're living in this place, and you've been hanging out with me this whole time and didn't once think to mention it so that I might be able to, I don't know, help you?"

Loki had Grace right where he wanted her, despite what he'd originally believed would happen in this very situation. But something strange had happened. He hadn't had to manipulate her at all. She had just… offered to help him. And he wasn't quite sure what to do with this twist in events. So, he did what came most naturally to him - he distrusted it.

"And why should I have thought you would want to help me? You know nothing of me, Grace. You barely knew my last name until tonight. Why should you want to help someone whom you hardly know?" He snarled the words at her, for reasons he knew not. She was offering him what he needed and wanted most, but he felt unable to accept an offer of help on its face. He would have been much more comfortable accepting it had it been under his own false pretenses. His eyes flared, and he worried for a moment that they had gone red.

"Because this is what friends do, Luke!" Grace spat the words at him the same as he had spat his own at her, putting her fingers to her temples. Then, more calmly, she lowered her hands and raised her eyes to meet his. He had been prepared for her to be angry with him for lying, but not for refusing help. He was usually so skilled at wearing whatever emotional mask was necessary in any given situation, but for this, he was entirely at a loss. His brow wrinkled and he pursed his lips. As it turned out, he didn't need to say anything, because Grace took over.

"This," she repeated, taking his hands between her own gloved fingers. "Is what friends do."


	11. Coming Or Going

**Author's Note: **What's that? TWO chapters in one night? That's right. Being sick apparently gets the creative juices flowing. This one really took it out of me, though, so I might not write again for a couple days. Please read and enjoy, and hopefully this answers a few questions for you guys. If you think I'm anywhere NEAR done, though, think again... things are gonna get REAL soon. :)

* * *

Chapter Eleven: Coming Or Going

Song: "Every Day" by Rascal Flatts

"Hi, Daddy!" Grace threw her arms around her father as he squeezed the suitcases into the narrow doorway, Vivian trailing behind him, taking off her gloves. She hugged his neck and accidentally nudged his glasses down his nose from behind his ears. "How was Alaska?"

Alvin Lawson dropped the bags onto the foyer floor, defeated, and hugged his only daughter back. "Hi, sweetie."

"Oh, honey, Alaska was wonderful!" Vivian threw the gloves onto the oak table near the door, and opened her arms to Grace, who left her father's embrace for her mother's. "A week wasn't nearly long enough, but your father certainly outdid himself for my Hanukkah present this year."

"Hi, Mom," Grace said warmly. "I missed you guys!" Suddenly, toddling out from behind Grace's legs was a tiny figure in a pink sweatsuit whose shirt was emblazoned with the embroidered words, "Mommy's Little Troublemaker."

"And there's my second little princess!" Vivian cooed, crouching down to pick up Amy, who giggled wildly at the sight and smell of her grandmother. With the baby resting on her hip, Vivian turned around to face Grace. "I hope it wasn't any trouble, us being away. Did you mind staying here?"

"Mom, it's four floors up from my own apartment," Grace rolled her eyes. "Besides, I'm almost thirty. It's not like I'm at Jewish day camp and I'm getting homesick."

"Point taken," Vivian said, not really paying attention. Amy had decided to show her grandmother her new trick - counting to five on her fingers - and Vivian's attention was elsewhere. Grace smiled and turned back to her father, who was hanging his hat on the hatrack opposite the table.

"Any problems, sweetie?" Alvin asked, rubbing his greying ring of hair as if it would make it grow back over the bald spot caused by years of wearing a _kippah_. He unbuttoned his heavy wool overcoat and threw it up next to Vivian's violet cloth one.

"No problems, per se," Grace said, with an emphasis on "problems" that her father knew to be a hint of something else going on. Her eyes had changed to a pale blue, a trait that Alvin's mother had handed down to Grace - whenever Grace was experiencing some sort of extreme emotion, her eyes would flash various shades of sapphire blue from their normal, steely grey.

Vivian looked up at Alvin with knowing eyes. Amy gurgled and blew spit bubbles, shaking her overgrown curls back and forth. She pulled herself off of Vivian's lap and crawled over to Grace, reaching up for her. Grace lifted her daughter and carried her to the kitchen, setting her in the high chair and heading to the cupboard to get a single serve applesauce to keep Amy occupied.

"I know that tone, Gracie, what's going on?" Alvin pulled out a stool from under the kitchen counter and gave his daughter a tired smile. "It's late, so just cut to the chase."

"All right, Daddy, you got me. There's this friend of mine who needs help," she started, pulling off the lid of the applesauce and rooting around in a drawer for a baby spoon before realizing that Amy would have the applesauce all over her face and hands no matter what she did anyway, so she just handed Amy the cup of applesauce and let her have at it. Amy went fingers-first into the creamy mush, joyfully playing with her food before sticking her fingers in her mouth. _Boy, I wish that were all it took to make me happy these days,_ Grace thought. _Then again, watching this kid doesn't hurt._

"What kind of help does your friend need?" Alvin asked, Vivian joining them at the counter, smoothing her dark-wash jeans over her slightly plump thighs before sitting.

"Do you remember the guy who helped me out with that mugger in the park a few months ago?"

"Of course, you said his name was, what, Luke?"

"Yes, Daddy," she replied. "Well, it turns out, he hadn't mentioned it this whole time, but he's been living at the Y near Central Park! For months now!" Grace shook her head, still disbelieving. She could scarcely imagine living in that kind of situation for a week, much less the months Luke had been doing it. Alvin, for his part, could see where this was going. He knew his daughter too well - for all she had seen and experienced in the last troubling years of her life, she still had the passion and desire to help others less fortunate than herself. It was admirable, but he worried sometimes that she deliberately avoided seeing the bad in people so that she couldn't be accused of being jaded. Still, the man had helped her without asking anything in return, and she had been seeing him socially for a few months now. And at least he had been getting Grace out of the house - not that she'd had much time for socializing since Amy's birth, but both Alvin and Vivian had discussed on several occasions that it was time she started at least seeing friends again. She was only twenty-eight years old, after all. She needed to have a life again.

"Let me guess," Alvin said. "You want me to pull strings at the board. Help him get a cheap place?"

Grace smiled her most winning smile at her father. She had long ago refused to even consider using her father's connections at the housing board of the apartment complex for her own personal gain (although had eventually relented after she discovered she was pregnant), but this was different. This was for someone who clearly was deserving and in need. Luke had done her a tremendous favor without ever asking to be repaid, and she felt this was payment in kind.

"Oh, Daddy, would you?" Alvin playfully rolled his eyes. His daughter knew damn well he couldn't resist her when she asked for something, because it was such a rare occurrence. And frankly, she never even got so far as asking. Usually he could guess, and if he could, he would deliver. And on this, he was pretty sure he could.

"I'll see what I can do, princess. We've been having a rough year trying to sell these places, I'm sure they'd rather have a warm body in one of them than see them vacant. He'd have to pay at least half the mortgage cost in rent, but if he needs to get himself on his feet first, I could get it waived for maybe a few months." Grace jumped and gave a clap, and Amy followed her mother's lead, splattering the applesauce that was on her hands to the tray table in front of her and into Grace's hair, causing all four of them to burst into laughter.

"Come on, baby girl, let's go de-sauce both of us," Grace said, lifting Amy out of the chair. She carried the fire-haired little girl out of the room and into her parents' master bathroom, intending to take a clean baby home with her. _Spoils of housesitting,_ Grace thought.

Meanwhile, Alvin looked cautiously at the hallway, making sure the bathroom door was closed before turning back to Vivian.

"Do you think I'm doing the right thing here, Viv?" He asked, running a hand over his bald head. Vivian smiled at her husband of forty years, knowing exactly what his worry was.

"Al, you worry far too much," she said, her Long Island accent coming through though she tried often to hide it.

"Coming from the most stereotypical Jewish mother since Sylvia Fine on The Nanny."

Vivian slapped him in the arm, her own blue eyes twinkling mischievously.

"I had the same feeling a few weeks ago, dear. But think of it this way," she said, standing up and heading toward the door, intending to carry the suitcases to their bedroom. "At least she's not hiding in her room anymore." She grabbed one of the handles and dragged it a few feet. Alvin had fallen in love with her when they were just kids, partially for her need to be independent and do things her own way - a trait their Grace had shown from day one, when she kicked Alvin in the nose in the delivery room when he tried to wrap her in a blanket.

"Are you sure? I just don't want her to get hurt, especially if I move this guy in a few floors away from all of us."

"First, Al, if you want her to be safe, the safest place you can have this guy is a few floors from all of us. Second of all, he did save our daughter's belongings from a mugger without asking anything from her. And third, if I know Grace, he probably even refused her initial offer and she's the one insisting. Grace needs to prove to herself that not every man is a monster. Let her work this out in her own way."

Alvin sighed and stood up himself, grabbing the bags from his wife. "I just hope this guy's relatively normal."

* * *

Grace sat on the 6th Avenue Express from Brooklyn to Manhattan, her head leaning against the window. She was trying to figure out how to tell Luke what she was about to tell him, and she wished he'd had access to a phone. In fact, she wondered if he even had a cell phone. At this point, she just wanted the train to speed up so that she could get to the Y before it got dark. They had a lot to do, and she didn't even know if he'd be "home" when she got there. Usually, they made plans to see each other again at the end of one of their excursions together, but it had been two weeks since the last time they'd seen each other, and at the end of that night, she had told him she would come see him when she had figured things out. Well, that day had finally come, thanks to her father's expert negotiating skills, but she had no way of letting Luke know that. So, she was just banking on blind faith and hope today.

Truth be told, she couldn't really explain why she cared so much for him. Perhaps it was because of that first night, when he had so casually stopped that mugger and seemed so nonchalant about the whole thing - as if he did that sort of thing every day, as if he were some kind of hero, like one of the Avengers. But the truth was, those guys didn't exist in her world. They existed to save the universe from giant threats, not to stop regular old muggers… arsonists… rapists. Those guys were under the control of the normal human justice system, or what there was of it, and frankly, that system had failed on so many levels for so many people that it wasn't worth putting your faith in. So for a regular guy like Luke to take it upon himself to help a nameless, faceless girl without asking anything in return, made him worthy as far as she was concerned.

Plus, he was really, really nice when he wanted to be. He had sort of a dark, brooding thing going on, and he could be caustic at times, but then, who couldn't be in New York? It was practically a language. At any rate, being a sarcastic ass from time to time didn't mean Luke deserved the situation he'd found himself in. She wanted to ask him what had happened to him that had led him to be homeless and jobless, but she also knew that there were some topics that people didn't want to talk about until they were ready, and she wasn't going to push him. If he wanted her to know, he'd tell her. But now she understood why he'd been so secretive about things in the past. Hopefully, he would stop that now that he didn't have to be ashamed of his living situation anymore.

The train stopped at the 59th Street station and Grace hurried off and through the turnstile, and up the stairs. The blast of cold December air hit her in the face as she came up on Central Park West, and she practically ran down the street toward 63rd Street.

"Dear God, please let him be there," she said aloud, the wind causing her eyes to tear. Turning onto the street where she'd last seen Luke, she fought against the gusts which were now increasing as a result of being in the wind-tunnel of a street, when she came up upon the steps to the Y's door. She realized at this point that she wasn't quite sure what to do now. Was she supposed to knock? Ask to be buzzed in? Just head inside and ask around for the tall, kind of shitty-tempered dude with the long black hair and the attitude problem?

Fortunately, she didn't have to answer any of these questions, because before she could logic her way through them, Loki came up behind her.

"I was beginning to believe I might never see you again." His voice was like ice, and yet, so very warm to her ears. She spun around at once, and a grin stronger than the afternoon sun passed over her lips.

"Luke! I'm so glad you're here! You have no idea, actually, because I have fantastic news."

"Oh?" Loki raised an eyebrow. "Does it explain why you have been absent for these last two weeks?" Grace was stung by the way his words poured from his lips. He stared at her blankly.

"I'm sorry, but it's not like you're easy to get in touch with here. I don't exactly know how to call and leave you a message, if you'll even get it, and frankly, I don't want everyone here having my contact information, you know." She crossed her arms. "Now. Do you want to continue being an ass, or do you want to know why I've come?"

Loki folded his arms as well, as a petulant child might. "I suppose, since you've come all this way."

"Well, since you asked so nicely," she replied sarcastically. "I told you I'd come back when I had things figured out. And I do."

"Let me guess," Loki started. "You have reconsidered our friendship in light of what you've learned about me. You no longer have want of my company, as I am but a pauper here. Understandable, but I wish you had not waited so long to bring me this news." He climbed the stairs and tried to push past her.

"Luke, you magnificent ass, will you wait a second?" Grace grabbed his arm as she had that night at Rockefeller Center, when she'd kept him from walking off alone. "I said I had fantastic news. Why would I come all this way just to end our friendship?"

Loki gave his best sour look. The truth was, he had missed her, and he didn't want admit it, but when he'd seen her standing on the doorstep, long hair dangling in a ponytail, legs draped in thick jeans and red canvas shoes, it was impossible for him to ignore. So instead, he went to his "happy" place - except for him, a "happy" place was somewhere dark and cold, where he did not have to feel anything for anyone. A place where the only thing that mattered was revenge.

"Please, Luke, just listen. You don't have to stay here anymore."

"Oh? And where do you suggest I go?" His wool overcoat suddenly began to feel tight, his scarf closing in at his neck. He could sense he knew the answer that was coming, but was too scared to think it possible. There was no use getting one's hopes up, after all, when he was constantly reminded that he was not good enough to have the things in life he wanted.

"Well, for now, you're coming home with me. And, in a week," she replied, with a smile of satisfaction spreading across her face. "To your own apartment, a floor above mine."

* * *

It hardly seemed real.

One moment, she had been telling him that he would be getting his own place, away from the wretched boarding room to which he had been resigned, and the next, he was stepping off the train with her, each of them carrying a bag of his things, all the mortal things he had in this world, as she walked with him to her own apartment. She trusted him enough to share her home with him. This much, he had never expected, nor had he even desired. His head was spinning, his defenses lost along with his senses. He knew nothing good could come of getting so close to a Midgardian woman, and yet, Grace had insisted, and where she insisted, he could not resist. It was as though she was a witch like his mother, but she had displayed no form of magic to him, except for the magnificent trick she played with her eyes. He still had to ask her about that, he reminded himself.

As they walked up a hill that Grace said led to their apartment building, he listened to her talk about how they would have to get him furniture, how she would help him "stock the pantry," how he would need to set up "cable" and "phone" services… but all Loki really wanted at the moment was to collapse into a warm bed and absorb everything that had just happened. His head hurt, and he wasn't sure how much more change he could take all at once. It seemed his grand plan had turned on its head. He had planned to manipulate his way into a place to live, but Grace had manipulated him into accepting her help. Or maybe she didn't have to. He wasn't sure, he was too tired to be sure of anything.

"Okay, here we are!" Grace stopped in front of a building that looked similar to several other buildings on the street, tall and thin, with a large front stoop with ten steps leading to an equally large front door. They dragged the suitcases up the stairs and Grace unlocked the door, pushing it open with her shoulder. Loki held it for her with his large hand while she pulled her suitcase in and headed to the right, down a wide hallway, which was brightly lit and carpeted. The walls were painted a peachy color, and it made the entire place seem quite warm and inviting. Much more so than where Loki had been staying, at any rate.

"Anyway, I'm on the first floor, right here." She stopped at a door about halfway down the hallway, which was labeled 6A. "Not my first choice, being on the first floor, but I took what I could get. Anyway, you've got to be exhausted - I know I am. Plus, my Mom is probably anxious to get home. Which reminds me… there's something you should probably know about me…" She opened the door with yet another key, and Loki's eyes grew wide. He did not see Vivian sitting on the camel-colored sofa, rising at their entrance. He did not see the photographs of Grace and her friends lining the walls in vivid frames of all shapes and sizes. He did not even notice the smell of delicious baking bread and roasting chicken wafting from the generously sized kitchen.

What he noticed instead was the little girl with fiery curls crawling happily toward Grace, a familiar smile on her face. And the same greyish-blue eyes sparkling at Grace the way Grace's sparkled at him so many times before.

"Luke… this is my daughter, Amy."


	12. Return to the Forest

**Author's Note: **I warn you guys, I didn't originally plan for this chapter to end on this particular cliffhanger, but I'm kind of excited to see what happens. Guess we'll find out together! ;)

* * *

Chapter Twelve: Return to the Forest

Song: "Collide" by Howie Day

"A daughter?" Loki stood, mouth agape. _What fresh hell is this?_ "You have a daughter?"

Grace nodded, lifting the child into her arms. Amy stared at Loki, a blank expression on her face, as if waiting for a cue from her mother or grandmother as to how to react to this new, odd looking stranger in her house. Grace looked from Amy to Loki and back again.

"So… yeah. I know what you must be thinking, and you must have a million questions, but, uh… yeah." For the first time since he'd met her, Loki realized, Grace was at a loss for words. He had so many questions for Grace about this child. Where was her father? Why was he not here? What were the circumstances of her birth? Why had Grace not told him she was a mother until now?

"It would seem I am not the only one who harbors secrets, then," Loki said, a slow, satisfied smile growing across his face. He felt some of his mental prowess coming back to him, knowing that she was not so morally superior to him after all. She had been upset with him for keeping his living situation from her all these months, but had never bothered to mention the existence of a child in her life! He knew he could use this to his advantage somehow, make her feel guilty, cause her to feel indebted to him for forgiving this transgression against their trust.

But the specifics of his plot would have to wait, for he realized they had another guest in their presence when Vivian cleared her throat.

"Oh! How stupid of me. Hi, Mom. Was she any trouble?" Grace crossed the living room and set Amy down on the overstuffed microfiber chair next to the sofa and handed her a stuffed doll with identical red hair from an open chest of toys next to the door to the apartment.

"No, no trouble at all, dear, as usual," Vivian replied, watching Loki out of the corner of her eye. He was as handsome as her daughter had said, taller and lankier than she had expected, with the most piercing green eyes she had ever seen. A real looker.

"Luke, this is my Mom, Vivian," Grace said, as she crossed the living room into the kitchen and grabbed a set of potholders. "Mom, this is Luke Laufeyson, the guy I've told you about." Vivian smiled warmly at Loki, and took his hand. He noticed Grace looked very much her mother's daughter, with the same wild dark hair (although Vivian's was greying at the temples), the same dimple in her left cheek when she smiled. She looked elegant, even for a Thursday evening, dressed in a black oversized cable-knit sweater and dark jeans. Although Loki supposed she must be at least fifty, she looked much younger.

"My, my, it must be freezing outside! Luke, your hands are ice cold. Come, come inside." She turned to face Grace, who was busying herself with the chicken in the oven. "Darling, I hate to run, but I've left your father upstairs watching our own dinner and God knows if I leave him alone for too long, either I won't get to eat or he'll burn the place down!"

Grace scarcely looked up from what looked like surgery on the chicken. "Thanks, Ma - I'll call you later, okay?"

"Nice to meet you, Luke - and we'll get together sometime this week so Al can tell you about your new place, okay?" Vivian winked one blue eye at him, and he forced a smile to his lips. Vivian was gone in a swish of black fabric, leaving Loki, Amy, and Grace alone in the apartment.

He stood in the middle of the room, not really knowing what to do. In front of him, Grace was wrangling the chicken, and on his left, the child played quietly with her doll. He eyed Amy suspiciously. He had not been around children on Asgard, and was no more experienced with Midgardian children. What little experience he did have left him feeling awkward and out of place, certainly not comfortable in his skin. Amy, for her part, had taken the doll's head and placed it squarely in her mouth, spit dampening the fabric.

He snapped his head up at the sound of Grace's voice.

"Hey, Luke, could you give me a hand in here?" Grace shut the chicken back into the stove, and opened a box of rice, which she poured into a sauté pan on the front burner.

He inched his way toward the kitchen. He had never had to cook for himself, and had no idea what he was doing, but also did not know how to tell Grace this.

"Can you please get a bottle of wine out of the cabinet over there," she asked, pointing to a large cherry wood wine cabinet with a lock on the front, standing next to the hallway leading to what Loki presumed were the bedrooms. "The key is on top of the fridge toward the front. I have to keep it locked because of Sticky Fingers over there." She motioned toward Amy, who was now crawling over to the toy chest, having left the doll sitting upright on the chair.

Loki had no problem locating the key, as he was practically as tall as the fridge itself. He unlocked the wine cabinet, then realized he had no idea what kind of wine Grace liked. He did know, however, that chicken called for white wine.

"Is there a particular vintage you were hoping I'd select?" He called over his shoulder.

Grace chuckled. "We don't do 'vintages' in this house, my dear. If it's got alcohol, I'll drink it."

Loki could appreciate her forthrightness and simplicity. He picked a Riesling from the rack and walked it back to the counter where Grace had laid a bottle opener. Uncorking the bottle masterfully, he poured two glasses and handed her one. She took it in one hand and continued stirring the rice with the other. "Can you do me another favor, please?"

He grew weary of this, but knew that he was here only under Grace's favor, so he gritted his teeth and nodded.

"Could you put Amy in her high chair over here, please? I've got to get her dinner in her so that she goes down easily tonight."

A long string of Asgardian curse words flew across Loki's brain and very nearly escaped his lips. He had absolutely no idea how to do what Grace was asking him to do, but yet he could not admit this. He was a well-read, intelligent prince! He had seen Thor with children in Asgard, and he had such an easy way with them. Well, if Thor could do this, so could he.

He walked over to where Amy was sitting on the floor, fitting brightly colored plastic shapes into a block of wood with matching cut-outs. This child seemed rather intelligent for her young age, as she was able to put each shape correctly with its cut-out hole. It did not even seem to be a question for her. He watched her for a moment, considering how best to touch her so that she would not cause a fuss.

"Seriously, go ahead," Grace called from the kitchen. "She doesn't bite… most of the time, anyway."

Loki grimaced, and crouched down to Amy's level. She turned her chubby face up toward him, looking at him just as curiously as he had been looking at her. They regarded each other for a moment, and then Loki placed his hands underneath her plump arms, lifting her as he rose up again. He walked her to the high chair, arms straight out in front of him, carrying her as he might carry a dog that had just been sprayed by a skunk, and plopped her down into the tall seat next to the counter, locking the tray table into place in front of her before she could squirm out of it.

Grace looked over her shoulder and, seeing that Amy was securely in her seat, set the spoon with which she was stirring the rice down on the stove. She first reached into the neighboring cupboard, from which she procured a child-sized bowl. She scooped a small amount of the rice out from the bowl and then crossed behind where Loki stood and pulled on the handle of an accordion door adjacent to the room, to reveal a small pantry. She rummaged on the shelves for a moment and then, with a small yelp of success, walked back to the stove and opened the small jar that she had obtained on her mission into the pantry. Loki strained his neck a bit to see what was in it, but was soon sorry for it - the contents of the jar looked like something Amy might have thrown up.

"What," Loki asked, wrinkling his nose. "Are you feeding your daughter?"

"Rice mixed with green peas," Grace replied, sighing. "I know it doesn't look… or smell… like much. But she likes it, God love her." She mixed the rice and the peas together and brought it over to Amy's high chair. "I've got to feed her a little bit first, and then you and I can eat, okay? Just make yourself comfortable until then, it shouldn't be long."

Nodding, Loki lifted his glass of wine from the counter and inhaled deeply. It was light, fruity scented, hints of pineapple and peach wafting from the depths of the glass. He put the glass to his mouth and let the cool, wet liquid run down his throat. It left a delightfully sinful taste on his lips.

"You may want to be quick," he said. "I haven't eaten, and this wine is delectable."

Grace smiled, and took a quick sip from her own glass before going back to trying to get Amy to eat. Grace had gotten about halfway through the bowl, and although Amy laughed through the process, most of the food seemed to have gotten on Amy's face or Grace's shirt rather than into Amy's mouth.

Loki carried his glass into the living room - not far of a walk, considering the size of the apartment - and, for the first time since his arrival, took in his surroundings. On the wall opposite him was a gas fireplace with a mantel above it, lined with framed photographs and a large, oval mirror with an elaborate, gold frame. The wall on his right contained even more photographs, each individual photo hung to form a larger square pattern on the wall. Against the front of the apartment, near the door, was Amy's large, heavy wooden toy chest along with a television on a small entertainment stand. The furniture was not as expensive as Loki might have liked, but it was certainly better than what they had at the Y, and the sofa looked soft enough to sleep comfortably. The entire room was painted grey, with the exception of the wall containing the fireplace, which was a deep eggplant. It was warm, inviting, thoroughly Grace.

Suddenly, a photograph on the mantle caught his eye. He squinted, and then walked toward it to get a better look.

At first, he thought it was a photograph of Amy, who, by now, had finished her dinner and was struggling against Grace's attempts to wipe her face with a napkin. She let out a defiant squeal, and Loki shuddered against its shrillness.

As he got closer, though, Loki realized that the photograph was too aged to be of Amy. Amy could not have been more than a year old, if that. This picture was obviously several years old, fading slightly from age even behind its protective silver frame and glass. There were four girls in the photograph, three of whom wore their hair in pigtails. But the girl on whom Loki was focused had her hair in a long braid that she wore over her shoulder. She had a wide, toothy smile and a dimple in her left cheek.

And her eyes were steely grey, twinkling even though frozen in time.

"Grace, is this-?"

"Me." Grace finished his question for him, having suddenly come up behind him with Amy in her arms. "With my three best girlfriends to this day. That's Rachel, Stacy, and Leah."

"You look just the same," Loki noted. "As if you are just a smaller version of the woman you grew to be."

Grace laughed. "My parents, they always said I was an old soul. Maybe they were onto something. Anyway, I've got to get her down. I'll be back in a second."

* * *

He did not know how long it was after she left the room, but in a flash, his head felt like it was going to split in two, as it had when The Other had spoken to him while Selvig had been busy working, while Barton had been plotting their movements into Germany. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to squeeze out the pain. He wanted to cry out, to scream, but he did not want to draw Grace's attention. Then, suddenly, his eyes flew open and he was laying on the ground in the same forest where he and Thor had fought over the Tesseract, where he'd watched the brute quarrel with Tony Stark and Steve Rogers.

_What in the Seven Realms is going on?_

His body felt weighted. He tried to move, and failed, succeeding only in frustrating himself. He brought his hands to his chest and that's when he felt it: the cold, smooth metal shaped into an oversized hammer, leather-bound handle facing away from him.

And then, from the mist of the forest stepped a burly, blonde figure, red cape draping over his shoulders majestically. Loki could barely make him out, but he could clearly see the man's crisp blue eyes glowering down at him.

"We need to talk, Brother," Thor said.


	13. Inside Her Mind

**Author's Note:** Thor showing up kind of surprised me, too! But I think Loki needed to be tossed around a bit, don't you? Anyway, sorry it took a couple days to get this out... Christmas interrupts everything! Please review, comment, enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Thirteen: Inside Her Mind

Song: "Grace Kelly" by Mika

"You've made perfectly clear you'd like to speak to me," Loki said, huffing under the weight of the hammer sitting squarely on his chest. "But really, is this the only way you know to get my attention?"

Thor reached his hand out and Mjolnir flew back to him. He set the hammer aside for the moment and walked toward Loki, reaching his hand out. Loki ignored it, pushing himself up on his elbow first, and then climbed to his feet. He steadied himself, dusting the dirt from his dark pants, and glared at Thor. His brother was dressed in his war clothes, as if he believed Loki might try to harm him in the middle of Midgard. As if Loki could harm him with his powers restricted. He may as well have been human up against the demi-god.

"I am sorry, brother, but I can no longer be certain you are within reason when I wish to speak to you," Thor replied, lowering his bright eyes. "And judging by what Heimdall tells me, you are not within reason now."

"I'm sure I do not know what you mean," Loki lied, walking away from Thor to appraise the space before him. Apparently he could still successfully lie to Thor, despite being unable, thus far, to do so with Grace. Thor whipped around and marched toward Loki, intent on forcing a confession.

"Heimdall informs me that you have taken up with a Midgardian woman. Grace Lawson, is it?"

"And what if I have?" Loki smiled. "Do you have some sort of monopoly on Midgardian women? Or is Jane Foster a special circumstance?"

Thor glowered at his brother and raised his hammer. "This is not about me, nor Jane," he replied, his voice strengthening. "I am concerned for Lady Grace."

"And what concern is she of yours? I can do her no harm. You know perfectly well the Allfather has taken my powers," Loki spat, clearly irritated at the intrusion into his personal matters.

"All of Earth is my concern, Loki, particularly after the havoc you wreaked here." Thor was growling his words now, as he did whenever he was trying to convince Loki to be rational. It rarely worked, and usually only served to make Loki more determined to play with Thor's mind.

"The girl offered to help me. Should I have refused help given my current predicament? Especially since you have refused me assistance." Loki turned once again to face away from Thor. It was much easier to confound when not faced with looking into the eyes of the person to whom you were lying.

"I have not refused you assistance," Thor replied, obviously hurt. "But as father decreed, you must learn for yourself what it is to be human. Only then can you return to Asgard."

"And what makes you think I have not learned yet what it is to be human?" Loki fumed. "I have already been subject to humiliations galore. What more must I learn?"

"Brother, if you are humiliated, then you have not yet learned the lesson," Thor replied.

Loki scoffed. "Such a thoughtful, secretive answer. Perhaps you could tell me something that might be useful to me."

"Listen well, Loki. I do not know how you convinced this girl to assist you. But I know this girl has been hurt enough for three lifetimes. You needn't cause her more pain with your schemes," Thor said, his voice softening. His enormous arms relaxed, and he again set the hammer down. "She has suffered enough, Loki. We all have."

Loki stared his brother down. Thor cared for Grace's well-being, yet he had never met her. Naturally curious, Loki was interested in the reason why. So, he played to Thor's weakness: sentimentality.

"What kind of pain, then?"

"I'm sorry?"

Loki refrained from rolling his eyes in frustration. "You said she has suffered enough for three lifetimes. What could have caused her so much pain that you would come to Earth and knock me three ways from Tuesday last in order to protect her from me?"

"It is not for me to say," Thor said quietly. "I can only tell you that if, in time, she reveals it to you herself, you shall understand my concern for her. Perhaps then you will learn the lessons you need to come home."

Loki hesitated. "And until that time?"

"Until that time," Thor picked up Mjolnir again and walked to within inches of Loki's face. Loki turned his head, looking away and down, while Thor continued. "You shall be mindful of the fact that I have eyes the Earth over and that if I find you causing any mischief, any whatsoever, I shall come back and I will kill you." His breath was hot on Loki's cheek. "Are we clear, brother?"

"As crystal," Loki replied. "Now, will you please… put me back where you found me, lest I have to explain to Grace why I suddenly disappeared from her home?"

"Be mindful, Loki," Thor repeated, a warning. "I do not threaten. I promise."

* * *

Loki felt something cool and wet on his forehead, making slow dots along his brow. He felt weak, as if the energy had been sapped from every cell in his body. His eyes felt heavy-lidded, and it took too much energy to open them. He lay still for a moment, trying to recall his surroundings. A moment before, he had been in a misty forest with his brother threatening him, and now, forcing his eyes open, he realized he was back in Grace's small apartment, laying on the floor where he'd been standing before Thor dragged him off. She was kneeling over him, pressing a cold cloth to his cheeks and forehead, her own brow furrowed with concern. At this sight of his eyes opening, relief washed over her face.

"Oh my God, finally. Are you all right? You freaked the hell out of me!" She sat back on her heels, the cloth in her hand. Loki licked his lips, which were as parched as his throat, and he slowly sat up, regaining a bit of strength. "I came back out here after getting Amy down for bed and found you lying here. I tried to move you to the couch, but holy crap, are you heavy!"

Loki shook his head and felt dizzy. As it turned out, being hurtled to an alternate location via magic hammer took a lot more energy than he thought possible.

"I am extraordinarily tired," he replied. "Perhaps… perhaps I should go to bed."

"Of course," Grace said. "I'll wrap a plate of food for you and you can eat it later or tomorrow if you're hungry. Maybe the wine wasn't a great idea after all. Do you need help getting up?"

He almost laughed at her - she would no more have been able to move him awake than she could passed out - but restrained himself. Instead, he politely shook his head no, and used the back of the couch to pull himself from the ground. He steadied himself on his feet.

"Where shall I-" He started to ask where he would be sleeping, but Grace cut in, apparently expecting this question.

"You can take my bed for the night," she said. "I insist. You're obviously exhausted, and you need a good night's rest. I'll take the couch, I've spent plenty of nights here when Amy was teething and sleeping fitfully. The sheets on the bed are clean, I just washed them today."

Loki wouldn't have cared if they weren't at this point. He was so tired that he would have fallen asleep on the floor if she'd let him. Instead, Grace grabbed his two suitcases from the foyer and led him down the hallway, past the bathroom, and then stopped at a door across from a room with a half-closed door from behind which emanated a soft pink light.

"I hope the light doesn't bother you. I have to keep her door open in case she cries," Grace apologized, opening the white painted door across from Amy's room.

Loki stepped inside and found himself in the most feminine room he could have imagined. From the light, sky blue paint on the walls to the billowy, luxurious comforter on the bed which was wrapped in a mint green cover, he felt that if the word "soft" could materialize itself, this room would be the result. While it may not have been his own rugged decorating taste, he knew he would at least sleep comfortably here.

"Do you need anything? Glass of water? Pajamas?" Grace stood in the doorway, watching him sit down on her bed, carefully observing him.

"I am fine, but… thank you. For the offer, and for your bed." Had he blinked, he might have missed it, but he noticed Grace's right eyebrow twitched ever so slightly at this response. She smiled, regardless.

"Of course. Tomorrow, we'll go see my Dad and he can show you your new place. I don't think it's quite ready yet, but we can probably do a walk-through. For now, though, just get some sleep. I'll be in the living room if you need anything." With that, Grace turned on the bedside lamp on her way out of the room, and quietly shut the door behind her, leaving Loki to his thoughts.

He sat on the queen-sized bed, noting the contrasting firmness of the mattress against the softness of the duvet on top of it. He stood up and walked a few steps to the center of the small room, finally able to breathe and take in his surroundings in the quiet of the night. The bed sat against the wall adjacent to the hallway outside, with a small table and lamp between it and the doorway. There was a window across from the bed, overlooking a courtyard in the center of the apartment complex. A closet on the wall perpendicular to the window sat opened, and from this, Loki could see that Grace had an appreciation for fashion, in particular, shoes. In the corner of the room sat a large, heavy wooden dresser painted glossy white with an equally large, matching oval mirror sitting on top of it. The dresser itself was covered in costume jewelry draping out of several cigar boxes, numerous baby items, including several discarded pacifiers, and stacks of books, which immediately caught Loki's attention, himself being a voracious reader. He looked at the titles on the spines: "Baby's First Year." "Single Parenthood." "Surviving Trauma." "A Song of Ice and Fire." An odd mix of reading materials by any standard.

He turned and walked back to the bed, kicking off his shoes as he sat down. He laid his head back on the several soft pillows, hand behind his head, pondering his circumstances. Thor's words stuck in his mind: not so much the threats, all of which Loki had heard before and ignored. No, what nagged at Loki's mind was what Thor had said about Grace having been hurt. It was not that Loki cared for the girl. It was mere curiosity. She had failed to tell him about her child; what else was she hiding from him?

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw another book lying unopened on the bedside table. It had no title on its spine, but was instead bound in hunter green cloth, the same shade as his own battle garb.

He reached across the bed and flipped the book into his hands. The cloth was stretched thin across the binding, and was worn at the spine, but it still smelled new. He turned it over in his hands, looking for any sign of a title or subject matter, but there was none. There was, however, a cloth marker in the middle of the book, which beckoned Loki to flip open the pages.

The page he opened to was dated just a few days past.

_Amy is growing so quickly. I really need to take her for a haircut, but I just can't bring myself to chop off any of her hair. God only knows how long it will stay as red and beautiful as it is. It looks like mine did when I was little, before it turned into this mousy brown. _

It was at that moment that Loki realized he was reading Grace's personal journal. He knew he shouldn't. He knew this was private. He remembered keeping his own journal as a boy, how he had felt when Thor and his friends discovered it, and the dramatic reading Thor and Sif did of one of its entries before half his father's court. He had been so furious and embarrassed that he had cut off Sif's hair in the middle of the night and replaced it with elf hair. He'd gotten into quite a bit of trouble for that, but to his mind, it had been worth it.

On the other hand, he had killed dozens, hundreds of people in his last two years of life; surely, reading Grace's thoughts was immaterial to his redemption.

_I called over to Detective Rossi today. Still nothing on that front. Not shocked, really. Sometimes I think I should just give up on it, but I still have problems sleeping. The doctor keeps giving me these pills that are supposed to help, but I can't take them, not with an infant in the house._

Loki's eyes retraced the words on the page. _A detective?_ He wondered why Grace would be speaking to a detective on any sort of regular basis. Perhaps it was for her job, he thought. She was a criminal defense paralegal, after all. But why would her job give her problems sleeping?

_I'm going to see Luke in a few days to tell him about the apartment. I feel horrible for him. I still can't believe he's been keeping his living situation from me this whole time. Then again, some people would call me crazy for wanting to help a near stranger after everything that's happened. But you can't live your life in fear of the unknown, and Luke's been nothing but nice so far. I'm still trying to forget how his hand felt, though. It was so cold, but so comforting. I shouldn't feel that way - he IS a near stranger, after all. But still, something about him just… strikes me. _

Loki's heart inexplicably pounded reading these words. He snapped the book closed and put it back where he found it, arranging it perfectly so that Grace would not be the wiser. Suddenly, he felt very hot - a drastic and uncomfortable change from his usual frigid temperature. He stripped off his shirt and lay on top of the covers, switching off the bedside light before his head hit the pillow. As he allowed the darkness to envelop him, his mind was still reeling. It had been easy to take advantage of Grace when he did not know the depth of her feeling toward him, but reading her words was the same as if she had spoken them to him in her own velvety voice. They turned over in his head: _...something about him just… strikes me. _

And just before he drifted off to sleep, the thought occurred to Loki that Grace had struck him as well.


	14. Love Is For Children

**Author's Note: **I'm giving you guys a little "Christmas present" as it were. Hope y'all enjoy this chapter - from beginning to end. Merry Christmas, Happy Hiddledays!

* * *

Chapter Fourteen: Love Is For Children

Song: "I Want You" by Savage Garden

There was a subtle, almost imperceptible knock at the door.

"Luke?"

The voice was almost as imperceptible, muffled through the wood and walls. Slowly, the knob turned and the door creaked open, and Grace peeked into her bedroom. Amy was still mercifully asleep, so Grace had taken the opportunity to cook a proper breakfast before she went to work for the first half of the day. She wanted to know if he wanted anything to eat, since he hadn't eaten the night before. But, Grace found, he was still fast asleep.

She stood at the side of the bed, looking at him for a moment the way she looked at Amy - with tenderness, the way a mother looks at her child. He slept atop the covers, but was not shivering in the slightest despite removing his shirt before going to bed. His raven hair fell wildly around his face, curling slightly at the ends from sweat and sleep. His nostrils flared and his bare, pale chest rose and fell with each breath he took. Long, black eyelashes fluttered from his closed eyes. Grace felt that, in slumber, he had a boyish look to him, much younger than his language and experiences made him seem during his waking hours.

She leaned against the doorway and suddenly, as if in response to her movement, he shifted and rolled over to face her. His eyes blinked slowly awake, taking a moment to focus. Grace's face burned hot as she realized he would probably figure out that she'd been watching him sleep.

He did notice, but pretended not to, the thought of the words he'd read before falling asleep immediately popping back into his head the moment he saw her standing there in a set of red flannel pajamas that were just a half size too big on her.

"Good morning," Loki said. "Did you sleep well?"

"Oh, about as well as I ever do," Grace replied, thankful that he was at least pretending not to have noticed her staring at him. "How about you?"

"Restfully," Loki said. In truth, it was the best sleep he had had in months, unsurprising given that the bed was ten times more comfortable than the one he had been sleeping on at the boarding house. He sat up on one elbow and stretched his neck.

"I'm glad to hear it. Anyway, I have to leave for work in about an hour, but since it's New Year's Eve, I'm only there this morning. I'm making breakfast if you want some. You've got to be starving by now. I'll let you get dressed, but just come out to the kitchen when you're done." She smiled warmly, and just as quickly as she'd come, she was gone, leaving Loki alone again in her room.

Breakfast. It had been months since he had had a warm breakfast.

He kneeled down next to the bed and opened one of his suitcases, pulling a fresh, dark green cotton long-sleeved shirt from it. He owned far too many dark green clothes, but at least Thor and Jane had attempted to give him something of comfort during his time as a prisoner. The color soothed him now as it always had. Right now, he could use some soothing.

He opened the door and peeked his head out into the hallway. He could smell cooking sausage from the kitchen, and also maple syrup. He stepped through the doorway and hesitated a moment before heading to the kitchen. The door to Amy's room was still mostly closed, and he wondered if the child had awoken yet. At the risk of incurring the wrath of a mother who was probably happy that her child was giving her some peace and quiet in the early hours of the morning, he pushed the door ajar slightly. Decorated with pale yellow paint and a yellow area rug, with a white changing table and matching crib, it was an extraordinarily gender-neutral child's room. There was a large, overstuffed armchair in the corner of the room next to a bookcase with dozens of children's books on it. Loki perused the shelves as he had done with Grace's collection the night before. There were plenty of human princess stories to make up for the gender-neutrality of the room. Cinderella, Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, Sleeping Beauty. Loki scoffed. Surely, there had to be better stories than these with which to entertain a child. Loki could have told several of them himself, taught to him by his mother long ago.

Suddenly, a noise gave way behind him. It was the muffled sound of a child's cry.

Amy had woken up.

And she was quite unhappy about it.

Loki had no idea what to do to calm the child down. She was beginning to work herself into a frenzy, making all sorts of odd gurgling noises, and he was woefully unprepared. What had happened to the small, smiling child from the night before that he had so easily lifted into a highchair? All he needed right now was for Grace to come into the room and find him with her child, unattended and for no reason. He decided he simply must find a way to calm Amy down before she let out a scream.

"I… no, please, don't… err… do you want something? What is it? What do you need?" He paced back and forth in front of the crib. "I don't know how to help you if you can't talk. Children are not my strong suit. Oh, I'm no good at this; I am a king, not a babysitter."

He stopped directly in front of the place she sat in her crib and stared at her perfectly pale little face, and suddenly, she stopped making any noise at all and simply stared at him. He couldn't imagine what he had said to affect this change in her demeanor, but he was thankful for it.

Then, he looked down.

His hands were fading from blue back to their standard pale peach.

Immediately, he swung around and left the child's room and walked down the narrow hall, making a sharp left at the bathroom. Locking the door behind him, he leaned over the sink and splashed cold water on his face. He looked up into the mirror, dreading what he would see, but to his relief, it was just his normal face, albeit dripping with water.

Down the hall, Amy began to cry in earnest. He heard footsteps outside the door, and the sound of Grace's voice.

"It's okay, baby, you were a good girl this morning and let Mommy have some damn peace and quiet…"

Loki felt a pang of guilt, for a moment feeling as though he had frightened Amy into her crying fit. He sighed. _Get hold of yourself, you twit._

He opened the door just in time to run smack into Grace, who was dressed, by now, in her work clothes, as she carried Amy in one arm and attempted to foist on a peacoat with the other.

"Hey, you. I was beginning to worry!" She hurried past him, the little girl's flaming curls flying everywhere as she walked. He followed her wordlessly to the kitchen, where she sat Amy on the counter and struggled to get the girl's wild hair under control with a barrette and comb. "Breakfast is ready, but I've got to run and get Amy to my parents' place before I go to work. Please, help yourself. Pancakes, syrup on the counter, sausage in the microwave to keep it warm. Help yourself. Coffee's in the pot. I'll be back around noon. Oh, and if you want to do something for New Year's tonight, let me know. It's New York City, so it's going to be a goddamn madhouse in Manhattan, but we could go, I don't know, get Chinese or something around here."

Loki's head spun. He never thought he'd find someone who could talk circles around him, but Grace certainly gave him a run for his money. Grace set Amy on the couch, arranged a grey knitted cap on her head, wrapped her heavy, red wool scarf around her neck, and grabbed a large, floral-print cloth bag from the top of the closed toy chest. Loki could see diapers poking out of the top of it. She picked Amy up with her free arm and balanced the bag against the baby, and before he could say a word, she was gone in a blur of color. Suddenly, he was alone with his thoughts again. Usually, he would be more than happy to exist in solitude, but to his own surprise, he would have much preferred Grace stay the morning, give him someone to talk to, or at least to distract him from his own mind.

After he had had his fill of the breakfast Grace cooked, removed some of his clothing from his suitcases, and rearranged the bedding on Grace's bed, Loki realized he had not had a shower in days. He crept down the hall and found a small closet next to Grace's room, inside which sat a neatly folded stack of fluffy, red towels and washcloths. He picked one from each pile and stepped into the bathroom. He shut the door and turned on the water, adjusting it to well over lukewarm. Looking around nervously, as if someone might creep in on him at any moment, he stripped off his clothing and stepped into the shower, pulling the curtain behind him.

Standing under the running water, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back, letting his hair soak and the sweat and grease run from it. He felt three days of grime run down his lean body to the drain beneath him, and for a moment he forgot all about what he'd read in Grace's journal, the fact that she had a baby, the millions of lives he'd destroyed in two years' time, and even the loss of the life and family he'd known for centuries. For one sweet, disarming minute, he simply existed under the warmth of the water. Still half in a daze, he reached for the shampoo bottle from the shower caddy and, when he opened it, it was as if Grace were standing in the shower with him. The scent was light, roses and pears, the same smell which wafted from her hair to his nose whenever she was near him. He half expected to open his eyes and see her small, curved figure standing next to him, hot and wet and naked. In fact, for an instant, he found himself almost longing for it. As long as he had been out of Asgard, it had been six times as long since he had felt the touch of a woman of any realm against him. He breathed in deeply, wishing he had magic enough to conjure her here to fulfill needs he had long forgotten. But was this not the sentiment for which he had so long mocked Thor? These childish, petty emotions had made him so weak against the Destroyer, against the Chitauri. Yet, Thor had won both battles - the thought of which both disgusted and, oddly, impressed Loki. _No, _Loki decided. _This is a baser desire, not an emotional longing, a physical one. This is only natural. Love is for children. This, this is of the gods._

Twenty minutes later, he felt clean, though no less frustrated.

He stepped from the shower, wrapping the towel around his waist as he went. His hair dripped between his shoulder blades, and he ran his hand through it. It still smelled of Grace's shampoo, and Loki again wished for his powers so that he could turn the scent into something slightly more masculine. He wiped the mirror over the sink off with his hand, and stared into it, again praying he would not see a reflection of the ice monster that had revealed itself earlier. Thankfully, he saw only his normal complexion and let out a sigh of relief, which pierced the steam in the room.

He did not hear the door to the apartment open, nor did he hear Grace calling the name he had given her.

* * *

"Luke? You still up?"

She received no response and figured he must have gone back to sleep. _Oh, well, _she thought. _I need a shower before I pick Amy up anyway._

She removed her outerwear and tossed it over the back of the armchair nearest the door, kicked off her boots, then went to her bedroom, where she was pleasantly surprised to see the bed made, but also confused as to where Luke was. She thought perhaps that he had stepped out to get a cup of coffee or a newspaper. Maybe she could finish her shower and be dressed before he got back, and then they could discuss plans for the evening. Eventually she would suggest to him that he start looking for a job, but tonight was not the night for that - tonight was New Year's Eve, and she planned to make the most of it. She had always been a big believer in New Year's being the time for fresh starts, but never more so than this year. It had been a very long, arduous time for her, and this was the chance to write a new page.

Before undressing, as had become her habit since last year, Grace locked her bedroom door and checked it twice. Then, she yanked off her sweater and camisole and unzipped her skirt, letting it fall to the floor, leaving her in only her bra and panties. She grabbed her lightweight cotton bathrobe from its hook over the closet door and, after removing her undergarments, threw it on and tied it at the waist. Then, quiet as a mouse, she unlocked the door to the room and stepped outside. This was always the most nerve-wracking part.

Seeing nothing and no one, she crept into the hallway and turned left toward the bathroom, stopping at the linen closet on the way. She did not notice that a towel and washcloth were removed, nor did she feel the need to knock on her own bathroom door before entering it. Grace always kept the door closed so that, in the event Amy started walking without warning, she would not be able to turn on the water or, well, drown in the toilet.

Just as she put her hand on the knob and started to turn, the knob seemed to turn on its own, and she screamed bloody murder before fainting dead away, falling into Loki's stunned arms, pulling his towel down with her.


	15. Truth In Color

**Author's Note: **Shit's about to get real, just so you know. Please read and review, I'm about to go down a dark road and I need some encouragement here... it won't be ALL darkness here on out, in fact not even MOSTLY darkness, but the dark is REALLY dark...

* * *

Chapter Fifteen: Truth In Color

Song: Sullen Girl by Fiona Apple

"Oyyyy… my head…" Grace moaned softly as she came to, struggling to open her eyes in the bright light. "Did I break anything? My face? You?"

Loki sat on the edge of the bed, now dressed in linen khaki-colored pants and the green shirt he'd worn earlier that morning. After she had fainted, he'd carried her into her room and laid her on the bed, taking the opportunity to dress himself after making sure nothing about her was bleeding or broken.

"You are perfectly safe, and no, you did not hurt me. If a mugger was no match for me, you certainly wouldn't be," Loki said, a smile creeping across his face at the sight of her eyes focusing on him. "It appears, however, that both of us have a propensity for falling down at inopportune times. You managed to take my towel down with you."

Grace turned every shade of red in one of Amy's crayon boxes.

"I've called your mother," Loki continued. "She's agreed to keep Amy with her for the evening so that you can rest. I do not think going out this evening would be wise, given what you've just experienced."

She nodded agreement, her head throbbing. She was sure she must have hit it, despite his assurances to the contrary.

"I'm sorry, Luke," she started, sitting up a bit against the pillows behind her. "Not just for disrobing you, either. I didn't mean to… faint, I guess?"

"I should think no one intends to faint," Loki replied. "I am sorry to have scared you." He realized immediately after saying it that he had just apologized for something he had not even intended to do. He had rarely apologized for anything in his life, much less unintentional slights. The thought played in the back of his mind but he kept his attention on Grace.

"No, no," Grace held up her hand. "You didn't… I mean, you did, but you don't have to apologize. It's not like you did anything wrong. You're allowed to shower, for God's sake. I'm just not used to having someone else staying here, I guess." She shrugged.

Suddenly, Loki had the urge to do something he had not done in many, many years. Looking at Grace's pale, sunken face, he felt called to do something… kind.

"Might I suggest tea?" Loki had no idea if Grace even liked tea, but it was what his mother had always given him when he had been ill or frightened as a child. She had taught him the various magical properties of certain kinds of tea, as well as the healing properties of others. Now, it seemed to be the only way Loki could think of to comfort someone, as he was not used to comforting… well, anyone.

"You might," Grace replied, a small smile on her face. "Let me just get my bearings-"

"No," Loki said urgently, placing his palm gently on her shoulder, and then softened his voice. "Let… let me." Although Grace had not known him to be tender, the sudden softness in his voice allowed her to lay back on the pillows and the tension in her body to release. He left the room and headed to the kitchen, where he filled the kettle from the stovetop with water and turned on the burner. He then rooted around the cupboards until he found where Grace kept her water glasses, and filled one with cool water from the refrigerator. Then, bringing the glass with him, he went into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet, where he found a bottle of pain reliever. He returned to the bedroom and found Grace curled up on her side, possibly asleep, although he could not tell. She was shivering slightly. It was then he realized that she was still only wearing her bathrobe, which was not particularly heavy or warm looking, but in her exhaustion, she did not seem to realize she was lying on top of the blankets. He set the glass and the bottle down, and returned to the kitchen, where the teakettle was beginning to whistle. He turned the burner off and, after more rooting around in various cupboards, found Grace's collection of odd coffee mugs and several varieties of tea. He picked chamomile for its soothing qualities and poured the boiling water over the bag. Allowing the tea to steep for a moment, he spied a crocheted blanket laying over the back of the sofa decoratively, and walked toward it. He carried it and the tea back to the bedroom and, finding Grace exactly as he had left her, set the tea down next to the water glass. Then, carefully, as if she was made of the finest crystal and might break under his touch, he laid the blanket over her shoulders and arranged it down her body to cover her feet. Standing up to inspect his work, he noticed that her body seemed to relax, and she sleepily turned her head up toward him.

"I'm sorry, I must have dozed off," Grace whispered, turning and sitting back up.

"Understandable," Loki replied. He sat down on the edge of the bed again and motioned toward the tea. "Drink it slowly. It's quite warm, but it will soothe you. I also brought you some medication."

"Thank you," she said, cupping her hands around the mug, savoring its warmth. They sat in silence for a moment. Loki watched her turn the cup around in her hands and briefly considered asking her what truly made her faint. He wasn't entirely convinced it was the mere presence of someone else in her apartment. However, that notion was put to rest when Grace spoke. "I think I'd better sleep a while before I try the whole showering thing again."

"I think that wise." He stood up and ran a hand through his still-damp hair. "Do you require anything before I leave you?"

"No, but if you could order the Chinese around 4:30 and then wake me up after you've ordered it, that would be great. The menu's in the mail organizer on the table by the door. Order whatever you want, and I'll take cashew chicken and an egg roll."

"As you wish," he replied, bowing his head before leaving the room and shutting the door quietly behind him.

* * *

A few hours later, Grace opened the bedroom door and decided to make a second attempt at a shower. Approaching the bathroom cautiously, she found the door wide open, possibly because of Luke's hurry to get her to a soft bed, but which, in reality, was because Luke wanted to be sure that she would not feel threatened by a closed door when she awoke.

She silently disrobed and turned on the water, hot as she could stand it. She had worked up quite a sweat in her sleep, and somehow, hot water seemed to feel as though it cleansed more thoroughly than did cold. She stood under the running water for a few moments, allowing her muscles to absorb the relaxing pulse of water on them. Her brain still felt as though it had shifted in her skull and was pushing on the back of her eyes, but aside from the slight headache, she felt infinitely better having napped. She still wanted to celebrate New Year's in some respect, even if it was just sharing a cup of tea and talking about plans for next year.

As she reached for the new shampoo bottle, she noticed that the previously unopened bottle had been tampered with. It occurred to her that she should probably pick up some "manly" shampoo for Luke, lest he tire of smelling "like a chick," as her friend Matt might have said. She made a mental note to ask Luke later about what kind he liked. Scrubbing her hair, she hoped he had ordered the food when he heard her come out of the bedroom.

Her stomach growled, not having eaten since that morning when she had scarfed down some sausage and a pancake before Amy had woken up. Having realized how hungry she was, she hurried the rest of the shower along, stepped out and grabbed her own white towel, which was hanging next to Luke's red one. After toweling herself off, she wrapped it around her hair and shrugged into her bathrobe. She cracked the door open and tiptoed back to her bedroom, where she locked the door, checked it twice, and strode over to her closet. Usually, on New Year's Eve, she would be getting into her shiniest, sparkliest party outfit, dressing herself to the nines for an evening out with her girlfriends. Since she'd had Amy, though, Grace didn't have the energy or time to go bar-hopping, and as her friends married off, the allure of going out on the town became less appealing. _Then again, _Grace thought, _why shouldn't I put on my best?_ It wasn't as if staying in for New Year's made it any less a holiday, after all. Besides, maybe dressing up would make her feel more like a human and less like a victim.

So, she grabbed her favorite dress from the closet and laid it on the bed, setting to work on the parts of her body she still had control over.

* * *

Loki rifled through Grace's bag, searching for money to pay the delivery driver who had brought dinner to them despite the swiftly falling snow outside. He found just enough cash to hand to the driver, who grumbled in Chinese about the amount of the tip before walking back to his car. Loki shut the door to the apartment complex securely behind him and walked back to Grace's door, which he had left slightly ajar. He was sure she would not have approved of that, but since he did not have a key to let himself back in, he had little choice. Thankfully, Grace had either not come to the living room while he had been gone, or she had come and left the room again without a word, because there was no sign of her. She had been out of the shower for at least an hour now, and Loki was beginning to wonder what was keeping her. He started to unpack the food onto the counter and was just about to pull the re-corked bottle of wine from the night before out of the refrigerator when he heard Grace clear her throat behind him.

If he had not seen her this afternoon, pale and shrunken, he would never have believed her capable of looking the way she had then. Before his eyes, Grace was, quite simply, simply stunning in a glittering gold dress that hit her just at the knee, revealing to Loki for the first time her smooth, bare legs, which he followed down to a pair of high heeled, strappy shoes which matched the dress perfectly. She had put on an almost imperceptible coat of makeup, save for her lips, which were painted a fierce, blood red, and her hair fell in loose waves around her porcelain face, grazing her bare shoulders. He stood breathless before her just long enough for her to notice, and she smiled a shy smile that seemed to run through him as it worked its way over her lips.

"Are we going somewhere?" He croaked out.

"No," Grace replied, still smiling. "I just thought, well, you don't have to be going somewhere to look your best, and it is a holiday after all, so…"

Loki looked at his own clothes hesitantly.

"Oh, don't worry about yourself," Grace said quickly, instinctively knowing what he was thinking. "You look wonderful. I just did this mostly for myself."

He caught onto one word from that last sentence. "Mostly?"

"Well, there is a little bit of romance to this night, isn't there?" She winked at him. The smile that had run through him turned into a shiver straight down his spine and into his toes.

"I suppose so, although we operate on a slightly different calendar where I live," he replied, trying to regain control of his senses by changing the subject. "That being said, would you care for some dinner? You must be famished."

* * *

They sat on the couch, nursing the last of the bottle of the wine. Grace had kicked off her shoes but was still wearing the brilliant gold dress, and had curled up about halfway across the couch from him. Grace had just told Loki a story about her last New Year's, when the city had just rebuilt itself from the damage caused to it during the invasion of the Chitauri. Despite being six months pregnant, she had gone out to Manhattan to see the ball drop in Times Square with her friends, and they were surrounded by screaming twelve-year olds who were cheering for a singer who neither she nor any of her friends could stand.

"So, Rachel, because she's completely trashed, decides it would be a good idea to start yelling at him to get offstage, which of course is just a grand idea, considering we're surrounded by, oh, ten thousand of his biggest fans. What those kids were doing out so late past their bedtimes is beyond me, but whatever. So she's completely trashed, like I said, and she's screaming at him to get offstage, when all of a sudden, this guy comes up to her and looks at us and is like, 'Is this girl with you? Cause if not, I'm taking her home with me!'" Loki raised a black eyebrow.

"And… did you take responsibility for her?"

"Of course we did, no way were we letting her go home with some random dude who is impressed by her drunken screaming," Grace laughed. "But turns out, he was a totally upstanding guy, because she managed to lose her purse that night and he picked it up and brought it to her apartment the next day. When he realized she was nursing a hangover, he took her to brunch for mimosas of all things, and they've been together ever since. His name's Brian - really nice guy, turns out, and not a fan of Justin Bieber."

During dinner, they had discussed plans for decorating and furnishing Loki's soon-to-be-residence, as well as New Year's resolutions. Grace had said hers was twofold: to be more productive at work and to be less "type A" about other areas of her life. She had explained to Loki that she felt an obsessive need to control almost every aspect of her life and wanted to relinquish some of that feeling in the coming year. Loki could understand the need to control, but he did not quite understand the desire to untether oneself from that control. In his own life, Loki was constantly controlling himself: anger, rage, sadness, even happiness needed to be tempered within him to keep order. Everything he did, said, and thought now was controlled and measured. When Grace had asked what his resolution was, he replied more honestly than he'd meant to and had said that he wanted to find satisfaction, and that he wanted to go home. She had looked slightly distressed by this response, but hadn't pressed him further.

Which might have been wise, except that he was about to press her. Something had weighed heavily on his mind since that afternoon. He was not entirely sure why he wanted, needed, to know these things, but all attempts to quiet his mind had failed. He was sure it was his curious nature that caused the swell of unrest in his brain.

"Grace," he began. "I want to ask you something, but I do not wish to upset you. So if my questions do that, you need only tell me to mind my own business and I shall." He looked at her with imploring eyes, attempting to appear sincere.

"Sure," she said, throwing back the last of her glass of wine and setting it down on the coffee table in front of them.

"Where is your daughter's father?" He cut right to the quick.

Grace sighed deeply, clearly expecting this question but not entirely pleased to be answering it.

"I've been waiting for you to ask this, though I must say, nice timing, waiting for me to be slightly intoxicated," she said with a slight hint of sarcasm to her voice. "Amy's father is not in the picture."

"Yes, I gathered that, given that you've got no photographs of him and that you haven't mentioned him. What I want to know is why." He did his best to keep the sarcasm out of his own voice, realizing that if he snarked in any way, she might refuse to answer entirely. The fire crackled next to them, a piece of one of the logs falling to the bottom of the pit.

As she opened her mouth to answer, her cell began to ring, blasting the Ghostbusters theme song through the apartment. She grabbed it from the coffee table, and, seeing the name on the caller ID, went as pale as she'd been that afternoon. She lifted the phone to her ear and stood up, walking away from the couch into the kitchen. Loki's eyes followed her all the way around. It burned him to be so close to the answers he sought, but burned him still that he did not know why he sought these answers. Something inside him felt restless as Grace spoke to the caller.

Then, a note that sounded like an animal dying escaped Grace's lips and filled the apartment. She had no words, only the pain, only the terror that rose within her stomach and enveloped her heart. Momentarily, she found she could not breathe. The world started to go black, then white, then normal again.

Loki stood up, preparing to catch the falling girl again, but she wordlessly turned to him, tears building in her bright blue eyes.

"Grace?" He said, slowly approaching her as though she might attack him if he moved too quickly. He had seen this expression before, on his brother's face, when he had lied and said that their mother had forbidden his return to Asgard. The pain, the absolute pain, was unmistakable, but Loki could not think what might have caused it for her.

He recalled his brother's words then. _She has been hurt enough for three lifetimes. _He thought to the pages of her journal. _I called over to Detective Rossi today. Still nothing on that front. Not shocked, really. Sometimes I think I should just give up on it, but I still have problems sleeping. _He remembered how she had reacted when he had called her at her office, of the fear to her voice. And then he thought to her fainting spell earlier in the afternoon.

A dark picture was beginning to form in his mind, but he would not allow himself to conjure it fully. Not until she spoke.

"You asked where Amy's father was," she said at last.

"I did," he replied carefully, watching her icy eyes flicker in the firelight. To him, they looked as blue as his uncovered skin.

"He's sitting at the 20th Precinct of the NYPD. Booked on another rape charge."

Loki stopped in his tracks and licked his lips.

"Another?"

"The first," she replied, her voice trembling. "Was mine."


	16. With My Whole Heart

**Author's Note: **I didn't actually plan to publish this one tonight, but there was such a strong reaction to the last chapter that I felt I needed to. I do want you guys to know that some of this was written from personal experience, and was very difficult for me to put to paper, but it's therapeutic for me at least. Difficult, but therapeutic. I say that not to garner positive reviews, but I do want you to know that Grace's feelings are, in part, coming from my own life. I'm not trying to Mary Sue her, but I only write how I would feel in the same situation. At any rate, please do review - I appreciate every single one of you who's been sticking with this story so far.

* * *

Chapter Sixteen: With My Whole Heart

Song: "Beside You" by Simply Red (seriously, download this one - makes me cry every time)

He sank onto the back of the couch, unsteady on his feet from what she had just said. "I'm sorry, his first was your what?"

Her voice was still as quivery as the moment she'd picked up the phone. "I know. I know it's a lot to take in. But I don't make a habit of telling random people that I've been violated that way. And up until a few days ago, you were still pretty random."

He stared at her, unblinking. The thoughts had been playing across his head for the last two days, he realized, which explained the nagging voice in the back of his mind pressuring him to find out exactly what the story was with Amy's father. Ever since he'd read her journal, he'd unconsciously started to put the pieces together. But he hadn't allowed his mind to go there until Grace confirmed it.

His face darkened. He stood and walked to the still-crackling fireplace, the light playing on the lines on his face. He leaned on the mantle, resting his head on his forearm. He had not regretted murdering hundreds of people in the name of power and control, but even he, for all his flaws, could not imagine violating a woman's body in that manner. Especially not Grace's, not with its delicacy and perfect, pale beauty. He could not imagine doing it himself, and he could not imagine someone else doing it either. Or, rather, he did not want to imagine it.

"Please," she implored. "Say something."

"I am not entirely sure what my reaction should be," he replied, his words cutting her like a blade to the back. "I have no words at the moment."

"I think I need to sit down before I faint again," she said, sinking back onto the couch. At this, he turned and looked upon her. She seemed so frail and lost, but he was sure that a cup of tea would not suffice to heal this particular wound. So, he sat down next to her.

The silence stung both of them. It was a long, long moment before either of them said anything.

"There isn't much to tell," she began, drawing in a deep breath. "It happened when the world looked like it was ending. Not that day, but the day after, when the police were too busy cleaning up the mess that shithead made."

A nasty, putrid thought was creeping its way into Loki's mind like a serpent around a mouse, so foul he could almost taste it, but he pushed it away, listening intently to Grace's words.

"There was so much looting, rioting going on. Nobody seemed to care about it, at least nobody who could stop it. They were too focused on restoring order to Midtown. I was living downtown back then, near Wall Street. I was holed up in my apartment, trying to avoid going out, but sort of monitoring things on TV, you know? And, well, it was just a crime of opportunity, I guess. I just happened to be the person who left her door unlocked accidentally, and the rest is history."

The thought kept twisting its way through his brain.

She continued, still staring straight ahead, as if seeing nothing but also seeing everything at once. "Thankfully, I had my wits about me enough to go on autopilot paralegal mode and went right down to the hospital once he'd gone. They took DNA, my clothes… but they forgot to give me emergency birth control, and I forgot to ask for it. A few weeks after, I started becoming very sick in the mornings, my period stopped when it had always been on time, and, well… then I knew. Even before I peed on the stupid little stick, I knew he'd left me pregnant, broken… damaged."

Loki felt sick. So very, very sick. But Grace wouldn't stop talking, and as much as he wanted to scream at her to stop, he knew he couldn't. He had to hear, had to take it in. A million of Hawkeye's arrows through his chest would have hurt so much less.

"I was miserable for at least two months. I thought about abortion. I thought about adoption. I even thought-" She hesitated for a moment before going on, evaluating his face. "I even thought about suicide."

His brow furrowed and the breath caught at the back of his throat. Instinctively, he reached for her hand, unknotting it from her other one so that he could fold his fingers between hers.

She straightened a bit. "But my parents and my friends were so, so supportive. I couldn't kill myself, I knew that in my heart. But I didn't know what to do about the baby. None of the options felt right. But in the end, they helped me get to the point where I knew it was okay to love a baby that had come from such pain. It was okay if I turned hate into love. And that's exactly what happened when she came. All my hatred toward him, whoever he is, turned to love for my baby. Because she is," Grace finished. "My baby."

Loki was watching her, his eyes a dark shade of emerald, flicking from her face to their intertwined fingers, her delicate shoulders, her hair draping over her cheeks, back to her face. And that's when he noticed a single, mascara-tinged tear fall from her eye, splashing onto her gold-covered thigh.

"She's mine, and no matter what happens, he will never take her from me. He took too much, he took so, so much," she cried, her words turning from calm to frenzied in half a second. Loki began to panic. Flashes of thoughts were coming at him from all sides now, and he did not have the time to process any one of them. All he could allow himself to focus on was the now-sobbing girl sitting to his right, shoulders shaking with gasps for air as she continued to pour her emotions out through her eyes and lips.

"I love Amy so much," she said, bringing her head up to face him, as if she needed to convince him along with herself. "I love her more than my own life, and I would never give her up for anything. But God help me, sometimes I look at her and am so scared of anything about her changing, maturing, growing, because what if she stops looking like me one day and starts looking like someone I don't recognize? Someone who scares the shit out of me? I don't even know what he looks like, Luke, he wore a mask. That's why I was so afraid of you for so long, because I didn't know, I didn't know, I didn't know!" The last "know" came out as a long, drawn-out wail, and she buried her face back in her hands.

And then, in a flash of gold against green, she was in his arms, sobbing, sobbing, ever still sobbing, into the flesh of his neck, drinking in his cool skin against her hot cheeks, her arms falling limply to her sides as he enveloped her with his own.

They sat like that for several minutes, Grace's makeup staining his skin, him holding her closely, stroking her bare arms, trying in vain to calm her down. He tried to think back to his childhood, the last time he'd felt comforted by anyone. His warmest memories were of him and his mother, who had been the only person who seemed to care about his fragile emotions. So often, he had felt like a wounded bird, not a quality held in high regard in Asgard. But his mother understood, perhaps because she knew his true parentage and did not expect him to live as his brother or his brother's cohorts did.

Suddenly, it dawned on him. The story his mother had told him the first time he had cursed his own flaws, the first time he had felt lesser than Thor. The first time he had felt true, mad jealousy and rage.

"The norns make no mistakes," he said at last, clearing his throat as he spoke.

"What did you say?" Grace lifted her tear-and-makeup-streaked face to look into his darkened eyes.

"Do you know much of Norse mythology, Grace?"

She shook her head, not understanding his thought process. She had just poured her soul out to him, and he was talking about Norse mythology.

"There is a tree, the tree of life, called Yggdrasil, from which the Nine Realms of the universe were borne. The norns are a trio of female beings who, legend says, come out from a hall standing at the well of fate. They draw water from the well and take sand that lies around it, which they pour over Yggdrasill so that its branches will not rot. Essentially," he continued. "They are the keepers of the past, present, and future of everyone and everything in the Nine Realms, and they keep life alive within those realms while watering the tree. They also do one other thing. Would you like to know what that is?"

Grace seemed to calm with each word he spoke, and he hoped the trend would continue with what he was about to tell her. She nodded, wiping her eyes with her fingertips.

"The norns assist women in childbirth, particularly difficult labors and pregnancies." He lifted her chin with his hand, and she relaxed at his touch.

"Why are you telling me this?" She whispered, still slightly shuddering as the last of her tears fell.

"Because," Loki said. "I believe the norns blessed you with your child for a particular reason. I do not know why they chose to do it through such barbaric means, but this is your destiny, Grace. And given that the pregnancy was so difficult, I do not believe the norns would further torture you by causing you to look at your daughter the same as the monster who gave her to you."

"Do you actually believe all this Norse mythology stuff? Like, is that part of you?" She sniffled. "Because I kind of like it."

He smiled at her slight lifting of spirits. "I do, Grace. I believe it with my whole heart."

Perhaps it was his tender way of looking at her, as if he could bore into her slightly burnt heart with his gaze. Perhaps it was the emotion of the day built up in the both of them. Perhaps it was her need to feel something other than revictimized. Perhaps it was her need to distance herself from the news she'd just received, or perhaps it was his need to comfort this creature who was in so much pain the same way his mother had comforted him so many years ago.

Whatever it was, it sparked in both of them, setting them both aflame.

Loki flattened the palm he'd been holding Grace's hand with, and she flattened her own against it, studying the size difference. After a long moment, he reached for her face with both of his hands, caressed her soft skin under his fingers. He longed to taste her lips, sweet with wine and salty with tears, beneath his own. He felt his neck crane downward, his eyes close. He could feel her warm breath near his face, the pounding of his own heart in his ears. He wondered if her heart raced in the same time as his own.

He was so close to taking what he wanted.

But at the end, something stopped him. He opened his eyes. In that instant, he knew he could not bear to taste her for the first time under these circumstances, no matter how desperately he craved her. She looked so small and helpless, a dying light in the blackness of the evening. He could not do it.

He looked down at her waiting lips, not certain she would understand, but knowing what he had to do.

"Perhaps," he said, pulling away. "In time, you shall believe it as well."


	17. A Job To Do

**Author's Note: ** Whew! That last chapter was something, huh? ;) I promise, there's more of that to come. For now, please enjoy meeting Grace's friends and watching them rake Loki over the coals. I just can't let this guy get a break... OR CAN I?

* * *

Chapter Seventeen: A Job To Do

Song: "A Little Help From My Friends" by The Beatles

"I don't understand," Vivian said, setting down a tray full of cups of coffee at her large, rectangular coffee table. "He did it again?" She, Grace, and Grace's friends had arranged to meet at Vivian and Al's large apartment two days after Grace had gotten the phone call from Detective Rossi telling her that they caught her rapist.

"It seems that way," Grace replied, glancing toward the living room, making sure she could still see Amy, who was playing dolls with Leah on the carpet. "I don't know much more than that. Detective Rossi is supposed to come see me later today and talk to me about the next steps."

Rachel took a cup from the tray and cradled it in her hands. Her large brown eyes focused squarely on Grace, she asked, "Sweetie, are you sure you want to go through with this?"

"What do you mean?" Grace's eyebrows pushed together.

"Well," Rachel began, glancing in Stacy's general direction. "We're just worried about your… stability if you pursue this."

"My stability? You mean you're worried I'm going to go off the deep end again, right?" Grace was irritated now. She didn't think it was so out of the ordinary for a woman who had been in her situation to at least have a passing thought of suicide - even if she hadn't actually considered it seriously. She thought she had proven she was stronger than that. She was taking care of her daughter with very little help, and no financial support other than her parents' assistance in getting her a cheap place to live. But it seemed that no matter how strong she was, her friends still saw a broken, battered woman who briefly debated ending it all in the aftermath of a terrible ordeal.

"Sweetie," Stacy prodded gently. "It's not that we think you're crazy or something. Far from it. We just have seen you struggle for a long time now to get to a really good place in life, and we just want you to recognize that a trial might be more difficult than you think."

"So you're saying I should just forget about it?" Grace was downright offended, and it showed in her voice. "You're saying I should just move on and let this guy get away with it?"

"He's not getting away with it!" Rachel replied. Her voice quivered a bit. "This other girl, she's pressing charges I'm sure - he'll go to jail for a long, long time."

"Mom? Mom, come on, back me up here!" Grace pleaded with her mother for support, for understanding.

Vivian sat quietly at the end of the table, biting her lower lip, lost in thought. She certainly did not want this monster to get away with what he had done to her daughter - far from it. She sometimes felt she could kill him with her own two hands for his actions, consequences be damned. But she also did not want to see her daughter hurt all over again. The difference between Vivian, however, and Grace's well-meaning but misguided friends, was that Vivian knew the importance of Grace's making this decision for herself. She had spent many years as a social worker and realized through her work that rape survivors needed to feel in control as much as possible. To try to goad a survivor into making one decision over another was to take away control once again from a person who had already had control ripped from her grasp.

"If you ask me, this bastard deserves what's coming to him," she said finally. "And if Grace wants to be the one to give it to him, then that's what needs to happen. You've already had enough decisions made for you, Gracie. Make this one on your own."

Rachel and Stacy leaned back in their chairs, defeated by the older woman's words. Their faces remained lined with concern, but they realized they were not going to win this fight. It was clear Grace wanted to do nothing but change the subject. So they did.

"So, what about this guy who's taken up in your apartment?" Stacy's eyes gleamed.

"Yeah," Leah chimed in from the living room. She was laying on her back, holding Amy over her, pretending to make her fly. "Viv, you've met him, haven't you?"

"Yes," Vivian replied, a smile playing on her lips. "He's a lovely young man. Al's showing him the apartment he'll be moving into as we speak."

"Actually, Mom, I wanted to talk to you about that…" Grace trailed off, lowering her eyes. "I think Luke should live with me."

Everything in the room seemed to stop. If it had been a movie, a record player would have scratched.

"Honey," Vivian began, her blue eyes light, choosing her words carefully. "Do you really think that's a good idea? Especially now."

"Yes, especially now. I'll need all the help and support I can get. There are going to be a lot of days where I can't take care of Amy, and let's face it, Mom, you have your own life and I could use the extra hands around the apartment."

Grace thought back to two nights prior, when he had held her head in his palms, when he had told her stories of Norse mythology to calm her frayed nerves, when he had very nearly kissed her, but stopped himself. He could have taken advantage of her pain and terror. She might have even welcomed it, a distraction. But he hadn't, and as a result, he had won her trust that night, hard as it was for her to give it.

Moreover, she had already seen him defend against a mugger with little problem; despite his thin build, she felt safer with him nearby.

The only thing left for her to do was ask him.

"So you're just going to let this random dude move into your place after knowing him for what, two months?" Rachel sat up, concerned.

"Oh, come on, Rachel," Stacy said, taking Grace's side. "Grace isn't stupid. This guy saved her from a mugger, how bad could he possibly be?"

"Plus, Viv says he's got a cute accent," Leah smirked. "When do we get to meet the guy, Grace?"

Grace was about to tell them all to stop acting like yentas, when there was a knock from the front hallway. Their heads all jerked up, and Vivian rose from her seat and walked with her cup of coffee to open the front door. She gasped slightly, and then caught herself, ushering the lanky, shadow-faced man through her door, briefly grasping his hand as she did so.

"Apparently," Loki said, having overheard their conversation from behind it. He greeted Vivian with a nod, placing his hands behind his back. "That time is now." He was wearing his customary uniform of dark pants and a cotton shirt, this time a steely grey. Grace wondered if he would continue to wear those shirts through the summer, since she didn't know how much clothing he could have brought with him in just two suitcases. She supposed they might have to go shopping at some point.

Upon seeing him, Grace rose to her feet and walked toward him. He avoided eye contact with her, still clearly feeling embarrassed over his folly two nights previous. Grace had attempted to minimize what had (and had not) happened, but Loki was still musing over the situation. Why could he not have taken what he so desperately wanted? In the past, such actions would never have been a question in his mind. Yet with Grace, in those moments, he had felt unable to move, barely able to breathe, and certainly unable to take advantage of the situation in which he had found himself.

"Luke," Grace began. "These are my friends - Rachel, Leah, and Stacy."

Loki gazed upon the three women whose youthful photograph he had seen in Grace's apartment earlier in the week. They were, obviously, much older now, but each still contained traces of the youthful girl she had once been. Rachel was about five feet, eight inches tall, with stunning, almost black eyes, and raven hair to match. She smiled through pursed lips, obviously sizing him up. Standing next to her was Stacy, much shorter than Rachel, with nearly white blonde hair which Loki presumed to be unnatural, and hazel-green eyes. She wore a blindingly large diamond on her left hand and a small Jewish star around her neck which matched the one Grace wore. He presumed Stacy to be Grace's closest friend.

Leah came in from the living room holding Amy under her arm in a sort of flying position. She had wild curls that were similar to Amy's, but were dark like Rachel's, kept loosely in place by a gold headband. She was about the same height and build as Grace, but had a much younger face, almost as if someone had dressed a teenager in adult clothing. She also wore a rather large diamond on her left hand, but it was not quite so large as Stacy's. Amy squealed and clapped her hands at the sight of Loki, which slightly unnerved him.

"So, this is the big hero, huh?" Rachel stepped forward. "We've heard a lot about you!"

"I would not go so far as to say 'hero,' though I do appreciate the sentiment," Loki replied curtly. He felt uncomfortable being cast in the same light as his brother. "Grace," he said, turning back to face her. "A man from your- I'm sorry, what I mean to say is, Detective Rossi…" Immediately, Grace walked to Leah and took Amy from her arms.

"Got it," she replied. "Can you tell him I'll be up in just a second? Mom, could you come with me?" Vivian nodded, lowering her eyes.

"Actually," Stacy cut in, her soft voice resonating in the otherwise silent apartment. "Would you like to join us here, Luke? I'm sure Viv wouldn't mind if we hung out here while she and Grace are upstairs."

"Not at all," Vivian said, grabbing her sweater from the back of the chair. Her greying hair pulled up in a tight bun, she reminded Loki of an instructor he and Thor had from childhood. Not that Thor ever paid any attention to lessons having to do with anything other than swordplay, but Loki found Lady Ivy brilliant. She was learned in books, music, and history from all Nine Realms, and he was thankful for her tutelage in Midgardian arts. It was because of her that he had been able to carry on conversations during his exile here. Perhaps that was why he felt an affection for Vivian, despite knowing very little about her. Also, she shared Grace's dimples.

"Well, Luke? What about it?" Leah looked to the other two women quickly, as if he would not notice the knowing glance she shot them. They returned her expression, and then eyes were on him.

"Very well," he said. He did not particularly want to be in the room when Grace was discussing her situation with the detective, who had reminded him somewhat of Thor. He was darker skinned and shorter, but he walked with a certain swagger and confidence which Loki could only imitate.

"All right, we'll be back… when we're back." Vivian put her hand on Grace's shoulder and picked up Amy's diaper bag, leading Grace out of the room. Just before she reached the front door, however, she turned her head back around and caught Loki directly in her gaze, an almost pleading look. He looked away, as if he might turn to mist if he looked too long at her.

After the door had shut, Loki looked at the three women in his presence. They each took a seat opposite from him, as if setting up for an interrogation. Loki suspected it actually might be an interrogation. He also felt woefully unprepared, but then, he was not known for his silver tongue for nothing.

"I want to know everything about you." Rachel did not miss a beat and cut directly to the chase. Loki immediately liked her.

"There is not much to know, I"m afraid," he replied. She raised a suspicious eyebrow. "All right, well, what would you like to know?"

"For starters, why were you living in a shelter?"

"Well, it's quite simple, really," Loki began. "I had a bit of a row with my family, you see. And I decided to come to Mid...town… from another country. But, having a bit of a problem finding employment in a city where you've never lived when your basic skills have to do with books and wit proved challenging, so I stayed at the boarding house until I could make other arrangements. Seems your Grace is a bit of a Godsend in that respect." He felt so comfortable telling falsehoods, that the last bit escaped his lips before he could realize the truth of it.

Leah and Stacy's faces immediately softened, and Loki even thought he heard a quiet "Aww" escape Leah's lips. But Rachel remained unmoved.

"So you just happened to bump into her multiple times over the course of a few weeks and like, followed her home? What are you, a dog?" Rachel crossed her arms.

"Rachel!" Leah and Stacy gasped almost in unison.

"Okay, okay," Rachel sighed. "But, really, Luke, you've got to understand where I'm coming from here. Grace is our best friend, and she's already been through a whole lot of bullshit. And then all of a sudden, you show up, and then this crap with them finding her rapist happens, and we're just… concerned." Her dark eyes sparkled in the light from the chandelier overhead.

Loki nodded, his fingertips playing the top of the table as if it were a piano whose keys were a bit damaged. He remained silent, playing the game.

Stacy tried a different tack. "Luke, it's not that we don't trust you. It's just that we don't want anyone else to hurt her." Loki admittedly liked Stacy as well. Though she was not as forthcoming with her opinions as Rachel, she clearly cared very deeply for Grace's wellbeing.

"I assure you ladies, all three of you, that I have no intention of hurting Grace. I care for her well being. When she told me two nights ago what happened to her, I was appalled. I simply don't know what to do for her."

"Well, you'll have plenty of time to figure it out," Leah said, a sly smile across her face.

"What do you mean, Lady Leah?" Loki chastised himself internally immediately after speaking. He had to start remembering that on Midgard, no one was referred to by "Lord" or "Lady," and women in particular seemed to find it insulting to be referred to as such.

"Oh, I just mean-"

"Wait," Stacy cut in. "Did you say you're having trouble finding a job?"

Loki turned his attention to Stacy, who tossed her silky hair back over her shoulders. "That is true," he said. "I'm afraid there is not much market for a man who is really only good with books and wit."

Stacy's eyes lit up, and her smile broadened. "Oh, but that's where you're wrong!"

Rachel grabbed Stacy by the arm and looked directly at Luke. "Excuse us," she said curtly, and dragged Stacy off into the kitchen, Leah apologetically following behind.

When the kitchen door was closed, the three of them stood under the bright lights, Stacy and Rachel facing each other.

"Are you crazy?" Rachel said. "No way am I helping him get that job! I don't even know him, Stace! How do we know he's not an axe murderer?"

"Don't be stupid," Stacy spat at Rachel, putting her hands on her hips.

"I'm not being stupid, I'm being pragmatic. Leah?" Rachel turned to face her friend, putting her weight on her left hip along with her hand.

"Rach," Leah said carefully. "He seems like a perfectly nice guy, and besides, Grace has been hanging out with him without incident for months now. She's not stupid. She's a really good judge of character, actually. Plus, I'm sure she wouldn't let him near Amy if there were anything to worry about. If she trusts him, after everything she's been through, so do I."

Stacy pursed her lips and looked at Rachel imploringly. "Come on, now, Rach, don't you think Grace's life would at least be easier if this guy could contribute financially? And you know what Rabbi Horowitz would say," she chided.

Rachel's face wavered just enough for Stacy to know she'd won. Rachel rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

"Fine," she sighed heavily. "All right, all right, I'll try. I can't guarantee anything, though. And if this goes badly, I swear to God, I will throw you both under the bus and you will never stop hearing 'I told you so' from me."

Meanwhile, Loki drummed his fingers on the table. He was trying to push out the thoughts of what might be going on in the apartment below him, of what Grace was telling the detective, of what the detective might be telling her. He was certain she would want to talk to him about it later, but he was not at all sure he could bear to hear it. He was caught in a space between wanting desperately to assist her, but not being so selfless that he could allow himself to take on her pain. His own was so great, he wasn't sure he had room for hers.

Before he could start that debate with himself, the three women plunged back into the room full-force, Stacy and Leah looking satisfied with themselves. Rachel looked defeated.

"Is all well?" Loki asked, raising an eyebrow and cocking his head.

"Well is a relative term," Rachel said, Stacy pinching her arm. "Ow! All right, all right. Look, I'm going to be honest here. I don't trust you any farther than I can throw you." _Not likely far_, Loki thought to himself. "But I'm going to do you a favor. Actually, it's more a favor to Grace that involves you. I'm going to talk to my boss and see if I can hook you up with a job using your skills. Although the wit has yet to be seen."

Loki sat up a little straighter. "And what, may I ask, is the position I would be filling?"

Rachel half-smiled, a look across her face which betrayed a childlike playfulness within her. "Sorry, guess I should mention where I work first. I am the head librarian at the Schwarzman branch of the New York Public Library. We need someone, a librarian or even just someone who can speak articulately about the subject, for our Medieval and Renaissance Literature department. Think you can handle that, big guy?" She raised that same eyebrow again, as if to dare him.

_Challenge accepted_, he thought.

"Let the foils be brought, the gentleman willing, and the king hold his purpose. I will win for him an' I can. If not, I will gain nothing but my shame and the odd hits." Loki smirked, and Rachel seemed vaguely satisfied.

"Okay, Hamlet. I'll give you a call in the next few days if I can talk my boss into this." Leah and Stacy, meanwhile, were looking at each other with glee. Clearly, annoying Rachel was something of a joy to them, even if she was their friend. Loki could understand this.

A few moments of small talk passed, when suddenly, Vivian burst back into the apartment, her face tight. Loki barely had time to stand up before she reached to him and touched his shoulder gently, much like his own mother might have.

"Luke," she said, her voice crumbling. "She's asking for you."


	18. Pleas(e)

**Author's Note: **Glad you guys enjoyed meeting Grace's friends. They'll make more appearances in the future. For now, back to our regularly scheduled programming... :)

* * *

Chapter Eighteen: Pleas(e)

Song: "Don't Move" by Butch Walker

Loki stood staring at the closed door, trying to talk himself into opening it. He knew Grace had asked for him specifically, but he could not be sure of what she wanted, nor did he really want to know. He wondered whether the detective was still in the living room, and whether he would be able to stomach whatever details might come out if that was the case. He also wondered what it felt like when Midgardians vomited, because he felt like he might be close to finding out.

Before he could will himself to turn the knob, it turned from the other side, and the door flew open, Grace's watery eyes rising from his chest to his face. Her face was flushed and her eyes puffy. Loki was sure she had been crying again. Quickly glancing inside, he could see no sign of the detective, which was probably a good thing because Loki felt he could have thrown him through a wall. It was Rossi's fault, even if only as the messenger, that Loki was in this position.

"Oh, hey," Grace said, clearly trying to hide her shaken state of mind. "I was just coming to look for you." She stepped aside to allow him to come into the apartment, which he did, and leaned against the wall perpendicular to the couch, avoiding eye contact inasmuch as was possible. Grace sat on the back of the armchair, facing him.

"The girls didn't give you too much trouble, did they?"

"Your friends are quite charming," he said. "The taller of them, Rachel, is it?"

"Yeah, she's our resident giant," she replied. Loki flinched at the use of the term.

"She has offered to assist me in obtaining employment," he said, pushing his hair out of his face.

"Oh?" Grace's eyebrows shot toward the ceiling, obviously shocked by the news. "At the library?"

"It would appear that they are in need of a librarian in their classics section," Loki shrugged. "As it turns out, I am quite familiar with the area, so she has graciously offered to bring me on board, should she be able to convince her supervisor."

"That's great!" Grace was happy to hear this news. It took one more thing off of her mind, and she was happy that he was able to find something that put his strong language skills to use. "Keep me posted about it. I'm sure Rachel will come through."

"I shall." He looked around, suddenly becoming aware of the quiet in the apartment. "Where is Amy?"

"Oh, she's napping. Babies do that. Not nearly enough, if you ask me." She laughed, but exhaustion betrayed her. In fact, Loki realized, she seemed much more tired than usual the last few days. It was not surprising, given what she had been through, but it was unnerving to witness.

"Is the detective still here?" She shook her head, locks of hair falling in her eyes.

"No, he's gone. He just wanted to talk to me about some things concerning a trial…" She trailed off, clearly still under the weight of the conversation she had had with the detective.

He relaxed a bit after this, and pressed on, despite himself.

"I must confess, I am slightly lost when it comes to the laws of this country. So you will have to forgive my ignorance. When will this trial take place?"

"It'll be quite a while. It takes time to put together a whole case, and there's also the matter of the other girl to deal with. They don't know whether they're going to try him on both counts together or separately. If they do it separately, my trial will come first, because…" She stopped and swallowed hard. "Because, well, he raped me first. But if they do them together, it will take longer because they have to put the facts together, all that kind of thing."

Loki took a moment to process this. "So, it is possible that this will take a year or more?"

Grace nodded solemnly. "It's possible, and quite likely, in fact. I've been in criminal defense long enough to know how this shit works. I never thought I'd be on the other side of it, though, that's for sure. I guess now I get to find out whether all the continuances we've argued against in other cases had any merit to them." She smiled ruefully.

"I see," Loki said. For a moment, there was silence. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt.

"That kind of brings me to my next point," Grace said at last. "I have something to ask you."

Loki lifted his eyes to meet hers, looking at her through his brows. "Yes?"

"Well, I know you went to see my Dad earlier about the apartment upstairs," Grace began, choosing her words deliberately. "Did you like it much?"

Loki nodded. "It was easy to imagine living there, certainly, and much more so since you described how you would suggest furnishing it so vividly." He remembered the discussion well - Grace had discussed in great detail the furniture and artwork she thought would please him, where they might go to procure some accent pieces, the colors she could imagine painting the walls. Loki had not cared much at the time, not being one for interior decorating, but now he wished he could go back to that conversation, before the world had caved in on itself.

Grace dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, ridding herself of the last of her tears for the moment. Her color was returning to normal, and her eyes had gone back to storm-cloud grey. From his perspective, this color seemed appropriate.

"I'm glad I could at least strike a chord in your imagination. I'd wager that's not easily accomplished."

At this, Loki brightened a bit. Grace's way of complimenting him sideways was impossible not to find endearing.

"Indeed, you are a rarity, Grace," he replied, hoping to lift her spirits as best he could.

She smiled weakly.

"Anyway," she continued. "I'm going to ask you something, and I totally understand if it's not possible, or if you just don't want to, but I need to ask because… well, because I just want to, I guess."

"Grace, it would appear you are pre-asking the question." His green eyes twinkled a bit, teasing her. She flushed again.

"You're right, you're right. I'm sorry; I've just never had to ask something like this before." She inhaled, and Loki noticed the shake in her breath. "Would you like to skip the whole getting your own place thing and just stay here? With me and Amy?"

Loki nearly thought Thor had pulled him out of his own body again. He felt lightheaded, as though Mjolnir had knocked the wind out of him. He would not have expected this in ten centuries. He struggled for words, but, as was becoming the norm around Grace, the words skittered over his tongue with no destination. He looked into Grace's waiting, expectant eyes and saw, for a moment, the slightest trace of apprehension. It was then that he realized they were more alike than he originally believed. Perhaps Grace, despite her confident and independent nature, feared rejection as well.

Then, an odd thought passed across his mind.

"Why would you have me?"

She seemed taken aback by the question in response to her question. She tilted her head and sighed, glancing sideways for a moment.

"I have to confess, it's partially selfish." She looked hesitant.

"Selfish is not necessarily bad, Grace, depending on the circumstance," he urged.

Grace bit her bottom lip and then continued.

"Well, it's just that the next few months are going to be really hard, not just emotionally but, like, as far as life goes," she said. "Detective Rossi impressed upon me that this process isn't like Law & Order or something, your life has to go on while you deal with it. I'll have to go to court and then go about my regular life, you know?"

Loki did not, not really, but he muttered agreement nonetheless.

"The truth is, Luke, I feel safe with you here. It's the oddest thing, I still feel like we barely know one another, and yet, I feel like I've known you for decades. You're like an old soul or something. And maybe I feel like you'd be good to have around, you know, in an emergency."

She hesitated, and for a brief moment, debated changing her mind about the entire thing, unsure of herself. But she knew the question had to be asked, and the time was now.

"And, you know, maybe you can help me sometimes with the baby, and in return, you can stay here for free."

Loki groaned internally. He was no father figure. He barely had a concept of what a father looked like, as he no longer viewed Odin as his father and had killed his own birth father long ago. He could not begin to fathom caring for a child, particularly one that was not his. However, he had difficulty refusing Grace any request, especially after her many kindnesses to him over the last few months. She was offering him a home, companionship, and her friends had offered to assist him in obtaining financial means. He had concerns, though.

"Grace," he began. "I cannot substitute for Amy's father. You are aware of this, yes?"

She laughed dismissively. "Trust me, Luke; I am not looking for a baby daddy. I just meant, you know, if I'm in court longer than I thought and my mom can't watch her, maybe you could babysit for an hour until I get home."

Her pupils dilated, she looked positively innocent, a white witch. And from her lips came the word he could not resist only when she spoke it.

"Please?"

He found himself nodding agreement before he could stop himself.

A smile spread across her ruddy face and found its way to Loki's icy bones from across the room. Suddenly, she was at his side, quick as a whip, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace.

"Thank you," she whispered into his neck, her warm breath sending blasts of heat through his body. She stood on her toes and rested her chin on the top of his shoulder, and he noticed his hands had found their way to her lower back. "This means more to me than you can know."

Her hair swept into his face now, and he took the opportunity to inhale deeply of her. He picked up the scent of her shampoo, but also a hint of cotton candy, which he suspected was her perfume. He noticed how soft and thick her cocoa-colored hair was, and he felt he could make a blanket of it. Moving one hand up her back, over her shoulders, he enmeshed his long fingers through it. For a long time, neither of them made the effort to move, enjoying the contrasting temperatures of each other's bodies. Loki felt the trepidation melt away from him more and more for each moment he spent pressed into her.

For her part, Grace felt as she had two nights ago: on fire, despite the iciness of his skin. He smelled of the soap she had bought for him at the grocery store yesterday, like wood smoke and pine. It was masculine but endearing, as if she could live where the scent came from. His one hand in her hair nearly felt painful, but perfectly placed at the same time, as if it belonged there all along. She wanted to express to him how appreciative she was of his agreement, that she trusted him enough to keep his word, and that she meant to make it up to him after this whole thing was over. But she also wanted to be clear about her intentions, what they were and were not. She meant what she'd said to him: she wasn't looking for a father for Amy. She had her life together and did not want anything to interfere with it. After all, the trial was going to be disruptive enough.

After a long while, she pulled back, and slid her fingers down the length of his arms, his hands following her lead until she was able to grasp both of them in her own. She looked upward, toward the ceiling, let out a deep exhale, and then said one word, quickly and matter-of-factly: "Bedroom."


	19. Snowballing

**Author's Note: ** HA! I loved the reaction to my last chapter. This is why I love reviews, I love seeing what people's predictions are for the next chapter. This one is short, I'm sorry to say - but it's been a hectic couple days and I didn't want to leave anyone in suspense for too long. BUT... the next one will be slightly longer, I promise. :) Please review, reviews are love and we all need love! Happy New Year, darlings.

* * *

Chapter Nineteen: Snowballing

Song: "Fire Inside The Man" by Savage Garden

After he'd caught his breath, his voice cracked. Had she said what he thought she'd said? Loki was not going to initiate physical intimacy with Grace, not when she had been so damaged in the past, but he was not entirely sure he could turn down an advance from her. The very idea frightened him.

"B...bedroom?"

"Yep," Grace said, suddenly full of energy. She dragged him by the hand, putting a finger to her lips to urge him to be quiet as they crept down the hall past the bathroom and Grace's bedroom. At the end of the hall was a brightly colored, silky tapestry with the image of a phoenix imprinted into it hung over a fourth door that Loki had not noticed before. It was kept closed, like the other doors in Grace's home.

"I've been using this room as storage, which is part of why the door is shut," Grace whispered, craning her neck to make sure Amy was not making any noise. "Please don't judge me."

She quietly pushed aside the tapestry, opened the door and Loki stepped over the threshold into a cluttered jumble of a room, filled with stacked large plastic containers, cardboard boxes, and a rather large wardrobe sitting in the corner. A window sat on the same wall as the window in Grace's room, and looked into the same courtyard, letting the afternoon sun illuminate the hardwood floor beneath them. Other than the wardrobe, the room was devoid of furniture. Loki turned in a circle, and then faced Grace, who was also looking at the room as if she hadn't seen it before.

"We'll have to get you a bed, obviously. And I'll get this crap out of here and put it… I don't know, I'll figure something out. It's mostly books, really, and my summer clothes in that wardrobe, but I can clear that out, too. At least that way you can get your stuff out of the suitcases. We can get some paint, too, if you'd like, and put up some artwork. I bet we could find some fun things in the City at the consignment shops there." She was speaking briskly, in hushed tones, and looked around the room as if she could already picture it in her mind.

"You do not have to remove your books," Loki suggested. "In fact, I would prefer to get a bookshelf and keep them on it. I do miss having the written word at my disposal, and you seem to have quite the collection." He observed that there were at least ten clear containers which held an immeasurable number of thick books.

"I promise, my taste in books is total shit," Grace laughed and moved further into the room, toward the window. "But you're welcome to read anything you'd like. I'm sure we can find a cheap bookcase at a thrift shop. You'll probably be doing a lot of reading when you start that job!"

He had not considered that when the prospect had first presented itself - for only the second time in the many, many months since he had been cast down to Earth, he felt very nearly excited. The first time had been only two days before.

He turned away from the containers of books. Grace was, by now, staring out the window at the snow-covered courtyard. The light illuminated her silhouette and Loki caught his breath in his throat staring at the curve of her hips, her breasts, the slight fuzz of her hair pulled into a low, loose braid.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" She sighed, with something like longing in her throat. "When I was little, my Dad used to bundle me up in tons of clothes and take me with him when he'd go visit other properties… but all I ever wanted to do was play in the snow on the way there. I know lots of people hate New York in the winter, but I honestly think it's one of the most beautiful seasons. Everything is cold, crisp… dead, but not dead at the same time. Like everything is just waiting to come back to life."

Loki stood next to her, gazing out the window as well. The frost had lined the panes, but through the icy frame, he could see an undisturbed blanket of snow in the yard, having just fallen that morning. He could feel the tiniest draft coming from the window, and the freezing temperature contrasted with the warmth Grace radiated from her body. For a few minutes, they stood that way, in quiet contemplation.

Suddenly, she jumped, and Loki jumped with her. "You know what I just realized?"

"Now, really, how would I know that?" Loki smirked. Grace stuck her tongue out at him.

"I just realized that there is a ton of snow outside, and I haven't taken Amy out to play in it yet!" Loki raised an eyebrow. At the very least, he felt comfortable in the snow.

"Come on, help me get her ready. I want to tire her out so she'll sleep through the night anyway, and at least this way we have an excuse to act like kids!" Grace was positively giddy. Loki could not remember the last time he had seen her smile so broadly. It infected his soul like a beautiful disease.

* * *

"Holy God, it's cold. Thank God the sun's out," Grace yelped, stepping into the frigid mid-winter air. She held Amy close to her, radiating her body heat onto her daughter, who seemed not to know what was going on. Amy had been bundled in a heavy blue parka, woolen mittens, tiny fur-lined boots, and about three layers of clothing to insulate her from the oppressive chill. The bare trees held the snow in their branches as a lover holds a partner, a firm but delicate grasp, and the small metal benches with white lattice-work were covered with a thick, wet layer of it.

It was the one place Loki felt he belonged, in nearly sub-zero temperatures, blending in with the rest of the frost. He pulled his coat collar up and tightened the scarf around his neck and dragged the sled behind him as Grace carried Amy to the center of the yard.

The flame-headed girl giggled from under her knitted cap as Grace dragged her around in the sled, making muffled claps with her mitten-covered hands. She laughed in earnest when Grace threw a snowball at Loki, who expertly dodged it, pretending not to enjoy himself. After a few minutes more of pulling Amy in her sled, Grace picked her up and, without so much as one word, handed her to Loki, who reluctantly took the baby and held her on his knee as he crouched in the snowdrift. Then, Grace proceeded to fall backwards, a white cloud erupting around her as she waved her arms and legs back and forth. He picked Amy up, balancing her on his hip as he'd seen Grace do a hundred times, although significantly more awkwardly, and approached where Grace lay.

Pink-cheeked and breathless, she looked absolutely content with herself. Loki looked down at her and realized that she had made the outline of an angel in the snow.

It was all perfectly Grace.

"Come on, your turn!" She jumped up to admire her work, pulling Grace back from Loki's arms.

Never had he wanted so much to retain possession of a baby. He stood in his place, arms folded across his chest. "No. Absolutely not!"

"Oh, come on, are you scared of getting a little wet?" Grace teased him. He did not find it funny.

"I am not a child, and I will not act as though I am." He pursed his thin lips.

"Funny, the way you're acting right now, you could have fooled me!" She smiled playfully at him. "I won't tell anyone, I promise."

Standing in the snow, gloved hand pushing up the brim of her hat, she looked so youthful and happy after several days of misery that Loki could hardly put up much of a fight. He rolled his eyes dramatically and lowered himself into the snow, next to where she had lain, the cold barely piercing his skin. He mimicked her movements, and could hear Grace talking to Amy: "See, sweetie, he's not so bad, is he?" _Am I not_, he thought, continuing to wave his appendages through the snow.

Once he was certain he had made enough of an impression, he climbed to his feet, nearly slipping on the way up, and looked back upon his work. His angel was much larger than Grace's all the way around, but hers looked more delicate, like it belonged where she'd left it. His looked out of place, like something dark and destructive that somehow made its way into the heavens.

Grace strode beside him, holding Amy close to her body. "Well, I guess we know who's winning the epic battle of the snow angels, don't we?"

Loki smiled. It would be one of the only battles he'd ever won.

"Shall we go inside, Grace? It is getting colder, and I fear I grow weary."

She nodded, reaching back for the sled. Just then, Loki ran behind her, presumably to grab the sled himself. She turned away and immediately felt something cold and wet hit the back of her hair which hung low out of her hat.

She turned and saw Loki standing next to the sled, dusting the snow from his gloved hands, looking at her with feigned innocence.

"Why, you little shit!" Grace let out a hearty laugh. "And here I thought you didn't like snow."

"On the contrary, my dear," Loki replied, an impish grin on his face. "It is where I am most comfortable."

* * *

"Cocoa?" Grace asked, setting Amy on the counter to begin the arduous process of removing her wet clothing. She hadn't even bothered to take off more than her hat and scarf which she had discarded on the back of the couch on their way in. Loki picked them up and hung them on the coat rack, along with his own outerwear. He removed his shoes and set them next to the door, and sat down on one of the stools at the counter, alongside Amy.

"Need you ask?"

"I see your point," she replied, lifting one of Amy's sweaters over her head. The little girl struggled against her mother for reasons unknown, but seemed infinitely happier once the sweater was removed. She turned her head to Loki and smiled a toothy, innocent grin. Grace continued to strip the little girl layer by layer until she was in only a diaper and t-shirt.

"That'll do for now," Grace said, satisfied with her work. She lifted Amy up and put her in the highchair, and emptied a tiny box of Cheerios onto the tray in front of her. Then, she reached into an upper cabinet near the stove and pulled out a container of cocoa powder.

"Can I assist?" Grace turned to find Loki standing directly behind her, making her jump in surprise.

"Jesus, do you ever not sneak up on people?" She gasped.

"It is not my intention most of the time, but it seems to happen that way." She squeezed past him to get the milk from the fridge.

"Well, you'll be barrels of laughs in a library," she observed. "Yes, you can help."

She brought the milk back to the stove and eyeballed the amount she poured into the saucepan. Then, she handed Loki a whisk.

"Stir that," she said. He was not accustomed to being ordered about, but when Grace did it, it did not feel like an order so much as a strong request.

She poured some vanilla extract into the mixture as Loki stirred, and turned the heat on under the pan. Slowly, the mixture began to melt under his touch. He wondered how someone had initially devised the recipe for cocoa. Milk, chocolate, vanilla, a hint of salt, sugar, and a touch of chili powder - ingredients which, on their faces, did not seem to belong together but yet when mixed made the most delectable treat.

And then he wondered if interactions between individuals from different realms worked similarly. Although he never would have placed himself in a home with a woman and a baby, somehow, he felt, he belonged here.

Amy crunched on the cereal behind them, and Grace watched him stir. "You need to go a little quicker," she said, suddenly placing her hand over his on the whisk, speeding up his pace for him. "Like this."

She smiled up at him, unaware that as she moved his hand, she stirred his heart.


	20. Two Weeks Later

**Author's Note: **I told you you'd get a longer chapter this time. This is a series of scenes instead of just one, and they take place a couple weeks from the last one we saw, so a bit of a jump in time. That said, I'm glad you are all enjoying where the story is going. We're only a third of the way through! I'll try to update again before the weekend's out, but I can't promise anything... ;)

* * *

Chapter Twenty: Two Weeks Later

Song: So Close by Jon McLaughlin

Loki stood outside the gargantuan marble building, staring at the set of lions on either side of the entrance. It was an impressive building, and looked to Loki to be centuries old, though he knew it was far less than that. He climbed the dozens of stairs to the relatively small doors set back in arches of stone and pulled one side open, stepping into the rotunda, a blast of warm air hitting him in the face.

He reached into his black shoulder bag and checked, for the seventh time, to be sure the papers he needed were still there. In the two weeks that had passed since Rachel had called him offering the job, Grace had taken great pains in assisting him in obtaining the necessary documents for employment in her country, and as these were the only copies he had, he was obsessively protective of them. Until he officially began his employment, he was still beholden to Grace, and much as he enjoyed having the freedom to do what he pleased, when he pleased, he preferred not to be in anyone's debt. At least by having a job, he would be able to contribute something to his living situation. If nothing else, he would be surrounded by books all day. There was little misery in that.

He walked to the enormous wooden desk sitting on the side of the rotunda and an armed guard looked up from his computer screen. "Can I help you, sir?"

"I am here to see Rachel Goldstein," he replied. "Apparently, I work here now."

"Oh, you must be the new guy she mentioned. Luke something, right?"

"Laufeyson," Loki replied curtly. The guard nodded.

"Up the stairs, to your right. But first," he stepped out from behind the desk, holding a broad, plastic wand of some kind. "Identification and I'll need to do a quick scan."

Loki handed his recently procured identification card to the officer and stepped to the side of the desk. The officer climbed out from behind the desk and waved the wand over his body, although he was unsure what kind of magic this human could perform. Nothing seemed to happen, and the officer stepped back, handing Loki his identification back as he did so.

"Okay, you're all set," he said, motioning toward the stairs. "Like I said, up and to your right. She's expecting you. By the way, my name's James."

"Thank you, James," Loki replied, heading toward the grand marble staircase, where he nearly ran into Rachel on the way up.

"Oh, good, you're early," Rachel said. "We like that." She was dressed remarkably unlike any librarian Loki had ever seen. Her hair fell loosely around her face, down to her neckline, framed by a button-down striped shirt tucked into a heather grey pencil skirt and sky-high heels. Loki was not sure how she could manage to walk without falling over much less replace books on a shelf.

"Who is 'we'?" He looked around, seeing no one. Rachel sighed, exasperated.

"Look," she said, turning on the steps and heading back up them, which Loki presumed meant to follow her. "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this for Grace. So at the least, could you try not to be a totally snarky asshole for five minutes? Good." He held his tongue - not an easy thing to do, by far, but he realized that his financial needs were, at the moment, of greater importance than his need to have the last sarcastic word.

They swung around the corner and went up another seemingly endless flight of stairs. Rachel's hips swung as she walked, as Loki had seen numerous courtesans in Asgard do when trying to attract his brother's attention. Loki never fell for that kind of seduction. It was far too easy, too obvious. Thor, on the other hand, had reveled in it until he met Jane Foster.

Reaching the apex of the steps, Rachel stopped to make sure he was still behind her. They walked side by side now, down a long corridor to a row of offices. Loki took in the sights as he walked; this building was indeed quite old, but not in a decrepit state. Recently restored, it now looked as beautiful as it did when it first opened at the beginning of the century. The ceilings had beautiful paintings reminiscent of Michelangelo of Italy, and the creamy eggshell walls were lined by columns at evenly-spaced intervals. He wondered what it must have been like to design such a building, to have the imagination to design each element with specificity and purpose.

Rachel stopped suddenly, interrupting his daydreaming. She stepped past the door and allowed him to enter first, and he took a seat at the desk sitting in the center of the office. She followed him in and shut the door behind her, which echoed through the enormous halls of the upper floor. Taking a seat on the opposite side of the desk, Rachel asked for his paperwork, which he produced from his bag. She put it through a machine which seemed to be scanning it into the computer on her desk, and then handed him back the hard copies.

"So your main function, at least for the time being, is going to be retrieving books from the Medieval and Renaissance collection for researchers in the Rose Room upstairs. When you get familiar enough with that collection, we can put you down in circulation and you can help with that too. For now, you are basically going to be in a cave full of old books. Think you can handle that?" She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, pursing her lips as she did when she first met him. She obviously did not trust him, nor did she really have a reason to. He did not expect everyone in Grace's life to understand her relationship with him.

Relationship. Is that what they had?

"I can certainly 'handle that,' Ms. Goldstein," he replied. "What do I need to know in order to do this job well?"

"First thing, my name is Rachel, not Ms. Goldstein," she replied, startled by his formality, but not looking up from the computer. "Second thing, all you really need to know is how to alphabetize. As long as books are logged in and out of the collection and are put back where they belong, you should be fine. If you move onto circulation, we'll discuss that then. For now, just don't screw up the alphabet. Maisy will help you when you need it, but it's really not rocket science." She stood up from the desk, pulling out a thick stack of paperwork and handing it to him. "Fill this out sometime today or at home tonight and get it back to me by the end of the week. After six months, you're eligible for the health insurance package…"

"Oh, that will not be necessary," Loki replied. Any illness he might get, no doctor on Midgard would be able to cure. Rachel stopped mid-sentence.

"All righty, then. No health insurance for Iron Man," she said with skepticism. "Any other questions before I show you around?"

Loki smirked. "When do we start?"

* * *

Grace sat at her desk, distracted. She knew Luke was starting his new job that day and found herself more concerned with what he might be doing than with her own work. She idly tapped a pen against her desk, drawing the ire of the girl who sat on the opposite cube wall from hers. Picking up her phone again, she reviewed her text messages with Rachel from the night before:

**Grace:** So, what are your plans for Luke tomorrow?  
**Rachel:** Why, are you afraid I'm going to beat him over the head with a rare book?  
**Grace:** No, I worry that you'll torture him first.  
**Rachel:** I promise, I'll be good. Mostly.  
**Grace:** See, it's the 'mostly' that scares me.  
**Rachel:** I still don't know why you trust this guy so much, so quickly, but like Leah and Stacy said, you're a big girl. I promise I won't mess with him. Too much.  
**Grace:** Somehow, I am still not comforted.

She sighed. It wasn't that she didn't believe Rachel would be professional; on the contrary, Rachel was the consummate professional at her job. She just also knew that Rachel was the most protective of her friends, and the least likely to trust just any guy. It had taken her months to agree to date Brian on a regular basis because she was too busy trying to figure out if he was trustworthy. After what Grace had been through, she was not surprised that Rachel didn't trust Luke, but it didn't make it any easier imagine her raking him through the coals.

Only a few hours remained in the day, and she still had a pile of work in front of her. She flipped through her to do list: two motions opposing continuances, a motion to suppress evidence in a stop-and-frisk, and a trial brief which was due next Friday but which she hadn't even started revising. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy her job. However, lately, she had found it more and more difficult to assist in the defense of people who were most likely guilty but going to get off on technicalities. Unlike defense, there was no way to manipulate the facts and evidence from a prosecutorial standpoint. The prosecution had to play by rules that the defense could exploit, nearly without limitation or consequence. The defense could say whatever it wanted about the victim, but the prosecution had to tread lightly with the accusations it made against the defendant. The whole system seemed flawed, and yet, it was all she had to count on in her own case.

She was holding her phone to her chin, lost in thought, when it started buzzing. Startled, she dropped it on her desk where it made a loud clatter, further annoying her cubemate, who glared over the partition separating them. By the time she convinced her shaking hands to pick up the phone, she had missed the call, but the caller had left a voicemail. Without checking the missed calls, she dialed into her voicemail and pressed the button to retrieve the message.

"Hi, Grace. This is Detective Rossi. I needed to let you know this now, before you heard it from anyone or anywhere else. As we discussed, we didn't want you at the arraignment because there really wasn't a point to it, but since you weren't there, you need to know - McAndrews was released on bail. I know this isn't optimal news, and you're probably cursing my name right now, but hear me out. We do not think he's going to skip, but we also weren't exactly planning on the judge agreeing to his release, particularly in light of the charges. She did subject him to an ankle bracelet, but for the next couple of weeks, just as a precaution, we are going to put an unmarked car outside your apartment and the other victim's as well. I hope this gives you some comfort, even though I know it's not much. Trust me when I say we want this guy behind bars as much as you do. Uh, yeah, so call me if you have any questions or just need to yell at someone. My number's 212-580-6411, extension 111. Okay, bye."

A click and the line went dead. Grace was still holding the phone to her ear, trying to unhear everything she had just heard. She felt weight bearing down on her chest from an invisible force, but she could not stop breathing harder with each passing second. Her throat felt like there was something lodged in it. Her ears started ringing, and she dropped the phone on the desk. The last thing she saw was her cubemate standing up angrily, annoyed at yet another disturbance in the quiet of the office.

And then, the world went white.

* * *

"She'll be okay," someone was saying, in a soft, kind voice. "She just had a panic attack."

"I thought these were over. Didn't they give her something when everything first happened?"

"It appears that way, from her records," Mr. Soft Voice said. "But that doesn't mean she's been taking it. She's sedated right now, and she should be under for a while…"

She heard a baby's squeal across the room, and immediately, she recognized it as Amy. _Oh my God, Amy. I forgot to pick her up from my mother's house! I have to go, I'm late! _She struggled to sit up but her entire body felt as though she were moving underwater. Slowly, she pushed her eyes open, but the room was blurred and it was impossible to see anything other than vague outlines of bodies and a room washed in white. She could hear the soft beeping of a machine next to her, and her left arm felt deathly cold.

"Amy…" Her voice even felt heavy.

The next thing she knew, the outline of three bodies were at her side. One of them was wearing white, and suddenly, a bright light shone in her eyes, and for a moment, she thought he was an angel beckoning her to come with him, to move on, to leave her life and her daughter and her family and friends behind, to go where it was warm and happy and she wouldn't have to deal with the frights of the world again…

"Grace? Can you move your eyes left and right for me?"

It was a struggle, but she did as she was asked. When the light moved away, her eyes began to focus again. The slow realization hit her - she was in a hospital room. She looked from side to side and saw her parents, her mother cradling Amy in her arms, and a tall, blond doctor leaning over her. Her father was holding her hand gently.

"What the hell happened?" She croaked out.

"You had an anxiety attack, sweetie," Vivian said, the lines in her forehead slowly fading as she realized her daughter was still alive and able to communicate. "Maybe you can tell us what triggered it later. For now, you just rest."

"Amy… is she okay?"

"She's just fine, sweetheart," her father said, his voice a loud boom next to Vivian's. Or maybe it just sounded that way because Grace's head was still swimming. "We've got her, and she's fine. And so are you."

The doctor chimed in.

"We're going to keep you overnight for observation, and you can go home tomorrow. Right now, you're under pretty heavy sedation - actually, I'm not even sure how you woke up at all - so you'll probably feel a bit groggy. But you're perfectly well otherwise, and we'll get you home as soon as we can." Grace nodded just enough to communicate comprehension. The doctor nodded to her parents, turned on his heel, and left the room, stopping a nurse to speak with her on his way out.

"I'm going to get a cup of coffee, Viv," Al said, still holding Grace's hand. "Do you want anything?"

"I'm fine, I'll stay here with her," Vivian replied, kissing the air in Al's direction. Al leaned over Grace and kissed her on the forehead, wiping the sweat from her brow as he did so, and then left the room, heading toward the cafeteria. Vivian pulled a chair over to the bedside with her free hand and sat down, putting Amy in her lap. Grace protested, trying to sit up.

"No, please, lay her down next to me," she said, although it came out as more of a plea. "I just want to be near her. I was so scared I'd forgotten her."

"Sweetie, ever since you gave birth to her, you haven't forgotten her. It's really hard to forget your own child," Vivian said, although she suspected Grace meant something different entirely. "But of course, I'll put her right here." She laid Amy down on the side of the bed opposite the IV bag, nestling her under Grace's arm. Amy gazed up at her, a concerned look on her face, as much as a year-old child could be concerned. Grace's heart warmed immediately on feeling her baby's touch and smell so close to her heart.

Then, another thought occurred to her.

"Did anyone call Luke?"

Before Vivian could so much as open her mouth, he appeared at the entrance to the room, his clothes slightly off kilter and his hair windblown and falling out of the tie into which he had pulled it before work that morning. He sounded winded as he spoke, as though he had run the entire way from the library to Mount Sinai.

"Where is she? I came as soon as Rachel gave me the message…"

His face drained as he looked upon Grace, hooked up to machines, hair matted against her forehead, her skin as white as the sheet covering her. Her arm had a needle in it, and was hooked into some kind of clear liquid in a bag, flowing into her veins. He tried to look past the equipment around her to her face, her eyes, her beautiful, hazy eyes, which seemed to shine despite the exhaustion.

"Luke…" She motioned for him to come forward toward her. He hesitated. He did not want to be near her when she looked like this, but yet, he could not stay away from her. He wanted to rush both toward and away from her. But the way she whispered his name made her impossible to resist. He took a few steps toward the foot of the bed. Vivian rose to greet him and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. He flinched.

"Oh, Luke, dear, so Rachel did get in touch with you," Vivian said. "I'm sorry, I didn't know how to reach you directly."

He nodded. "She did, and I came as soon as I could. She sends her best, and said that she will stop by whenever you are up for visitors. She also threatened to punch me 'in the junk' if I did not deliver the message."

Grace rolled her eyes. "Real professional, Rach…"

Loki grinned, despite the circumstances. "I find her amusing."

Vivian looked back and forth between her daughter and the tall, lanky man standing before her. Her cheeks flushed the same as Grace's might have, and she smiled slightly.

"If you both don't mind, I am going to go find your father, maybe get something to eat." She nodded toward Amy, who was fast asleep under Grace's arm. "Are you going to be all right with her there, or do you want me to take-"

Grace cut her off. "No, I want her here, with me. If anything happens, I'm sure Luke can handle it for me."

Vivian patted Grace on the hand and nodded at Loki before rising to her feet and heading to the door. When she reached the door, she turned to ask Grace if she wanted anything, but thought better of it when she saw Loki pull his chair closer to the bed, gazing with concern at the figure in it, taking her hand in his. Her eyes softened and she resisted the maternal urge to say anything. Instead, she shut the door, affording them a measure of privacy.

Grace felt his fingers lace through hers as they had under the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center, easily but firmly. His touch was cool, but gave her a modicum of comfort. Combined with the presence of Amy nestled close to her, she felt certain she could fall back to sleep just as easily as she could sit and talk to Luke.

"Grace, what happened?" His brow furrowed. "This seems to happen to you quite frequently."

Grace sighed heavily, shutting her eyes for a moment, trying to remember the moments before she fell away from the world.

"I remember sitting at my desk," she began. "Sitting there, thinking about you-"

"About me? Well, I suppose I am enough to make even the most strong-willed woman faint," he joked. A small grin crept across his face.

"I was thinking about how your day was going, at work, you egotistical ass," she smiled. "I was worried Rachel was being awful to you."

"Fear confirmed. But, as I said, I find her amusing," he replied, running his fingers absently over the top of her hand. "She reminds me of, well, me."

Grace kissed the top of Amy's head, gently so as not to wake her. She closed her eyes again, thinking back.

"So, I was sitting there, thinking about you and your job, and then I was reading my texts…" She trailed off, the past coming back to her in bits and pieces. "And I got a phone call, which I missed because I am a total klutz."

She described the message to him, his eyes focused intently on hers the whole time she spoke. The detective's words, telling her that her rapist was back on the street. That there would be police protection. That he was being watched. But none of it made sense to Loki.

"I don't understand," he said, his voice hot with a slow-building rage. "How can they simply let him go? Shouldn't he be kept in a - a dungeon somewhere? Why would they let someone accused go free?"

Grace shrugged, blinking back tears. "It's how it works, Luke. Doesn't always work out well, but it's how it works. I've been on the other side of this plenty of times. His lawyer probably argued that he's a pillar of his community, that he's not a flight risk… and as long as he gave up his passport and agreed to the monitoring, there's not much the prosecutor can do. Although, I do like that dungeon idea."

A tear fell from her face and rolled down her cheek, landing on Amy's fuzzy red hair. The little girl shifted in her sleep, her mouth opening slightly. Loki could hear her soft breaths, and wondered what babies dreamed of. Sweets, perhaps, or cute, fuzzy animals. Miniscule, unimportant, sentimental things. He tried to remember the last time he'd dreamed of miniscule, unimportant, sentimental things.

He tried to remember the last time he dreamed at all.

By the time he looked up, Grace had succumbed once again to the medication given to her through the needle in her arm, falling fast asleep next to Amy. The two of them looked very much alike in that moment, Loki noticed, both of their heads tilting slightly to the right, both of their left hands draped across their stomachs. Her skin was warm and his hand seemed to tingle where he held hers.

Looking at their joined hands, he whispered the words to no one in particular.

"What do you dream of, Grace? Where do you go when you sleep?"

He wondered if she could still feel him, still sense his presence. Then, on the off chance she could, he lifted her hand to meet his cool, thin lips. Pressing it to them, he drank in the taste of her skin, the closest he'd been to her yet. And while he knew he could not use his Asgardian magic, but he found himself believing, in that moment, that perhaps he did not need it. Perhaps being with Grace was a magic all its own.


	21. Little One

**Author's Note: **Well, that last chapter sure got people talking. To be clear (and I try to point it out in this chapter as well), the reason Grace was kept overnight in the hospital was because no one knew for sure whether or not she'd hit her head during her attack, and so they wanted to monitor for signs of a concussion. Also, while it is not common to faint during panic attacks, if you hyperventilate, a lack of oxygen to the brain can certainly cause a short fainting spell. So, I hope that clears up some of the confusion. Sometimes we have to suspend disbelief and just go with it - after all, we're dealing with an alien prince here. ;) Also, so many of you have been asking for Loki to interact with Amy, that I thought this chapter would be pleasing. I try to take my readers' wishes into account, as much as I can. Please enjoy this little bit of fluffy goodness - we're going to start getting into the meat and potatoes of the trial soon, and that... won't be pretty. Oh, there's also a little shout-out to my other favorite fandom, see if you can spot it!

* * *

Chapter Twenty-One: Little One

Song: Lullabye (Goodnight My Angel) by Billy Joel

Loki fluffed the bedspread for what seemed like the hundredth time since he'd first made the bed that morning. He nervously paced around the apartment, wondering what was taking so long. After the doctors were satisfied she had not hit her head in the midst of her panic attack, Vivian called the apartment to tell him that Grace would be home in the early afternoon. So, he had set about trying to make the apartment as neat, tidy, and comfortable for her as possible. He assumed she would be very tired, as the hospital did not seem conducive to quality sleep, and so he had made her bed for her, adding some extra pillows and washing and drying the sheets.

He sat down on the overstuffed chair in the living room, leaning forward so that his elbows were on his knees, contemplating the situation. He had stayed with Grace late into the night, refusing to leave her side until the hospital staff forced him out. Vivian had come back and offered to keep Amy for the night, partially, he suspected, because she did not entirely trust her granddaughter with a near-stranger, despite Grace's inclination to trust him.

Suddenly, he heard keys in the front door, and stood up to beat the lock. He opened the door and Grace stood, carrying Amy in one arm and the diaper bag in the other. She looked slightly pale and a bit unsteady, but far better than she had laying in the hospital bed. Instinctively, he grabbed for the bag and took it from her arm, stepping to the side to allow her entrance.

"Hey, you," she smiled weakly at him. "Shouldn't you be at work?"

He shook his head, setting the bag down into its home next to the door. "I have each Friday off, as I will be working Saturday mornings. Perfect timing for you to have had this incident."

"Glad I'm not a total inconvenience," she replied, undoing Amy's outerwear. Amy was fussy this afternoon, probably irritated by the disruption to her normal routine. "Everything okay here? You didn't starve, did you?"

"I may not be much of a cook, but I am more than capable of asking others to obtain sustenance for me," he said.

"In other words," Grace sighed as Amy crawled toward her toy chest with one shoe still on. "You ordered Chinese."

"So perceptive, my Grace."

Loki was just as surprised at his own words as was Grace, whose eyes shot up and looked directly into his as he spoke the words. Both of them had heard it, but the question was, would either of them acknowledge it? The silence seemed to crackle between them, static and heat at once. _My Grace._

"I am sure you must be tired," he said after a few excruciatingly weird seconds. "I shall take watch over Amy if you would like to sleep."

She swallowed, rising from her crouched position and steadying herself against the chair to her right. Her head ducked slightly, she nodded.

"Probably a good idea. They still aren't 100% sure I didn't hit my head, and told me to get as much rest as possible. Just make sure she doesn't get into anything she's not supposed to. If she gets cranky, you can put her down for a nap. The baby formula is in the pantry and the clean bottles are above the sink. And if her diaper needs changed-"

Loki cut her off. "I'll call your mother."

Grace smiled, the awkwardness dissipating.

"I don't know when I turned into my mother, but if I've learned anything the last couple days, it's that I really, really need to calm the fuck down," she sighed.

"Do you require anything further of me?" Thoughts of the first time he had taken care of her swam through his head. But she shook her head and picked Amy up from where the girl had parked herself, a collection of toys surrounding her. The shoe was now dangling from her left foot, and Grace plucked it off, tossing it to the floor with the other one. She kissed the child on both cheeks, and gave her a quick squeeze before setting her back down in the same spot. Then, she walked toward the hallway, stopping as she reached it.

"Luke?"

Loki turned to face her. She did not turn around, but instead spoke facing down the hall, toward the bedroom, as if she did not want her face seen.

"Yes?"

"Thank you. For staying yesterday, and for taking care of Amy now. It means a lot to know I can count on you."

With that, she walked off down the hallway. Loki heard the click of the bedroom door shutting behind her, and then took a seat on the couch, absently watching Amy play with a colorful set of plastic rings which fit over a plastic cylinder when stacked largest to smallest.

He ran his hands through his slightly oily hair and then let his forehead rest in them. Why did Grace trust him so much in the first place? The only person who had ever trusted him implicitly was Thor, and look where that got him. He had thought it over several times in the last few weeks, but he could not understand Grace's belief in his goodness, when he had never been good. She seemed to look at him without malice, contempt, or fear as most on this planet and his own might have, given his recent past. There were many unanswered questions in his mind. The only conclusion he had reached was one which he could not explain, nor did he want. But the last few days had cemented it: his own feelings for Grace were stronger than his need for vengeance against his brother, stronger than his craving for power. He had been reduced to the same sentimental fool he had long mocked his brother for becoming, but he could not deny it. The more Grace believed in him, the more he wanted to live up to those beliefs.

Somehow, making her bed had seemed like a good place to start.

He suddenly realized Amy was looking at him curiously, staring at him with bright eyes. He considered her for a minute, and rubbed his forehead. The child clearly did not know what to make of him, and he had no idea how to connect with her in a way to help her know him. He had to try something, though, as the last time he'd been alone with her, he had grown frustrated and burst into blue, which he had no doubt scared her. His natural form scared him most of the time.

So, he scooted off the couch and sat on the carpet, knees bent up, back against the seat, keeping a watchful distance. He was on her level now, and that would do for the moment. Baby steps, quite literally.

Amy was still watching him closely, with a curious look in her eyes. The way they sparkled, clear as a waterfall, reminded him very much of his own when he was interested in something - or someone. They caught the light in a certain way, and then he saw Grace reflected in the child's face. He remembered what he had told Grace about the norns, about his belief that Amy would not grow up to look like the father she would never know. He closed his eyes and conjured an image in his mind of Amy as a fully-grown woman, tried to imagine what she might look like. She would keep her fiery curls. She would have the same dimple as her mother and grandmother. She might wear braces to straighten her teeth as a teenager, but the payoff would be a dazzling white smile. Her chin would become slightly pointier, and her nose would be button-sized. Most importantly, her eyes would remain the same as they were - the same as Grace's, greyish blue, changing with her emotional outbursts.

Opening his eyes, he wondered if Grace could now see the same image when she imagined Amy growing up, or if she still feared the unknown.

In the time he had had his eyes closed, Amy had crawled toward him, and was now resting on her chubby knees in front of him. His hands were resting over his bent knees as he watched her reach up, unsteadily balancing on one hand and both knees. Curiously, she grabbed hold of his hand, and at his touch, she let out what Loki could only describe as a coo. Her tiny fingers wrapped around just one of his, just barely able to close a fist around it.

"Child, you know not what you do," he said to her, realizing she had no idea what he was saying. But Amy did not let go. It was as if she was daring him, waiting for him to move. He realized just then that he had been holding his breath, though he knew not why. He also realized had no idea how to entertain this child for the hours her mother would be asleep. He thought back to his younger years, to what his mother would do to entertain him when Thor was busy training. Those were the years when he had first learned his magic, and he could spend hours practicing for Frigga, who reveled in his successes. She would know exactly what any particular child required, even a Midgardian. She could access that child's proclivities and talents, and find a way to draw them out.

It was then he remembered that he had brought home several books from the library, ordered in from another branch. He was not sure if she could understand him, but she had enough books in her room that obviously Grace read to her on a regular basis. It couldn't hurt, at any rate. The only problem was, Amy still had a firm grip on his hand and showed no sign of wanting to let go. Hesitantly, he placed his free arm around her bottom and rose to his feet with, Amy sitting in the crook of his arm.

For a second, he could swear he heard Heimdall's deep, velvety laughter.

_Bullocks. If I ever manage to get back to Asgard, I will quite surely never hear the end of this._

He walked with Amy to his bedroom, which he and Grace had finished furnishing the weekend last. He had found a heavy wooden bedroom set for sale at a consignment shop in Midtown, and Leah had graciously donated a gently-used mattress to him. It was not nearly so comfortable as his bed in Asgard's palace - if his bedchambers still existed at all - but it was significantly more comfortable than any place he had slept thus far on Midgard. He had selected his customary colors of green and gold for his bedding, and had procured a bookcase big enough to line the majority of the left-most wall with his and Grace's books. Grace had also gotten her small oak desk from her parents' apartment and given it to him so that he had a place to write should he want to. The room looked more like a mini-library with a bed in it, which made Loki feel especially at home. The baby, on the other hand, was not part of the aesthetic.

He walked to the desk which was placed next to the window, and reached into his shoulder bag which he'd tossed onto the chair after he'd come home the night before. He had been so exhausted he hadn't even bothered to unpack it. Lifting the flap, he reached inside and pulled out three books, one by one, laying them on the desk. _Doing this one handed is not as easy as it looks_, he observed, Amy shifting in his arm. She was clearly growing weary of having her movement restricted and began to struggle against him.

He recalled the last time he had been alone with Amy, and how she had begun to cry. How he had not known what to do, and so instead became frustrated and sharp-tongued. He tried a different method this time.

"Just a moment more, little one," he whispered. "We don't want to wake Mother, now, do we?" Amy immediately soothed at his words, and he imagined his silver tongue had returned to him for now.

He picked up one of the three books with his free hand and carried it and Amy out of his room, leaving the door open behind him as he had no free hand to close it. _ How on Earth does Grace do this every day?_

As he tiptoed past Grace's bedroom door, Amy reached up and gently took a fist full of his long hair in her hand, not pulling it, just holding it. He stopped abruptly, his immediate reaction being annoyance, even anger, but once again, looking into the child's fact, he saw Grace's innocence reflected in it, and his anger melted away. After all, she was only a child,, and she wasn't causing him any pain. As it was, she was simply stroking his hair in her own clumsy way, almost in admiration.

"You are a very strange child, indeed," he said to her. She smiled back, and shook her head playfully, as if she were tossing her own hair to show him up. He continued on his way down the hall and back into the living room, tossing the book onto the floor next to the couch. As he sat down, he suddenly realized how tired he was, having been up most of the night with Grace and then rising early to prepare for her return. So, he gathered Amy back into his arms, lifted her with both hands, and stretched himself across the couch, laying Amy in the crook of the arm closest to the back of the couch, the same as she'd laid with Grace in the hospital. He adjusted the cushion under his head and shifted to allow Amy enough room, then reached below him and grabbed the book he'd selected, propping it up on his abdomen and opening it one-handed. He cleared his throat and read aloud, his lilting accent rolling from his throat.

"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense…"

* * *

Grace opened her bedroom door and looked out into the hallway, adjusting her t-shirt to meet the top of her yoga pants. There was no sound coming from any room of the apartment. Amy's room was dark, and she never would have slept without her nightlight, so Amy wondered where she and Luke could be. Perhaps they went up to her parents' apartment, or perhaps out to get a bite to eat while Grace napped the day away. She wrapped her hair into a loose ponytail at the back of her head as she stepped out of her room, shutting the door quietly behind her. _Hopefully Luke remembered to take a bottle for Amy if he had gone to find food for himself_, she thought, wandering toward the soft light of the living room. As she reached the doorway, preparing to head toward the kitchen for a glass of water, she stopped dead in her tracks, not quite believing what was right before her eyes. _Maybe I hit my head after all._

She knew Luke would take care of Amy's immediate needs, but she also got the sense that he was not comfortable around children. At the very least, she did not think he had much experience with them. And yet, the sight on which her eyes were set left her wordless, breathless, and hopelessly, helplessly melted her heart.

The book still rested on his abdomen, but had fallen face-forward when his grip on it had slackened. His left arm dangled off the side of the couch, while his right cradled Amy, his large hand resting on her tummy. Amy's chubby cheek rested against the side of his chest, her eyes closed in a deep slumber. And Luke's were closed as well, fluttering slightly as they always did when he slept, a tiny but contented smile across his lips.


	22. Spinning Around

**Author's Note: **Thanks for all the love and support on the last one - glad to have pleased everyone! Hopefully, everyone likes this one just as much...Ehehehehehe. That's all I have to say. :-)

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Two: Spinning Around

Song: "Kiss You" by One Direction

"All right, Grace, I just want to prepare you for what's going to happen tomorrow," Andrea Marks said, setting down a stack of files on her desk, their weight causing a slight slamming noise as she did so. Grace sat across from her, nursing a cup of very bad government coffee. Amy was in her carrier, napping quietly. Grace rocked her back and forth with her foot as she waited for Andrea to organize herself.

"I know what's going to happen tomorrow, Ms. Marks-"

"Andrea," the young woman corrected her with a slow, rolling Southern accent. Although she was an excellent attorney against whom Grace's own boss had gone and lost to in the past, Grace had immediately been struck by how youthful and beautiful the young prosecutor was. She was as tall as Rachel, with the same striking manner of dress, with honey blonde hair set against unnaturally dark eyes. She might have been a model in another life, but instead had chosen the path Grace herself had so often debated. She had been assigned to the McAndrews trial, the next step after arraignment being the grand jury indictment.

Indictments, Grace knew, were a mere formality in the criminal process. In New York, the prosecutor was required to obtain an indictment to move forward with the felony charges against Scott McAndrews, the man that the police believed had raped her and the other victim. The prosecutor had decided to try the cases separately, so Grace's trial would come first. If the jury in her case convicted him, it was quite likely the jury in the other girl's trial would convict him as well. That meant that Grace's testimony was of paramount importance, because her testimony combined with the physical evidence was the two keys to the prosecution's case. Most of the time, the same evidence used to arrest was used to indict, and the burden of proof was much lower. All Andrea had to show was the possibility that the McAndrews might have committed the crime of which he was accused. At the grand jury level, however, it did not much matter, because the grand jury usually indicted the defendant.

"Andrea, then. I know what's going to happen. I've worked on the defense side long enough to know how this process works." Grace glanced down at Amy, who had pulled her arm out from under her blankets and started sucking on her thumb.

"All due respect, Grace, working the defense side is different. The defense is never involved in the actual grand jury hearing, so you need to be prepared for my questions," Andrea replied, smoothing the top of her hair back to where it was held in its tight ponytail.

"But shouldn't the grand jury be easier, since there's no cross-examination?"

"In theory, yes. But you're still going to have to get up there and tell those twelve people about how you were violated, where, when, the gory details of all of it. It isn't as easy as you'd think. It's kind of a dress rehearsal for the real deal." The prosecutor sighed, and Grace imagined Andrea had had this conversation several hundred times in the past.

"Okay, so what do I need to know?" Grace looked down at her hands.

"First off, be here at 9:30 tomorrow morning, outside my office door, and we'll walk over to the Court together. I don't want you showing up there by yourself, in case there's any kind of press. This guy is an heir, some cosmetics line or something, so I'm not sure how much coverage it's going to get. Second, you need to relax as much as you can. It's going to be incredibly stressful, and I understand that it's easier said than done, but the more you relax, the better your testimony will be," Andrea said, leaning forward onto her desk. She handed Grace a sheet of paper, which Grace gingerly took.

"That's a list of questions I'm going to ask you. Don't feel like you have to have written, scripted answers to them, but I thought it might help if you knew what I planned to ask in advance."

Grace looked at the questions. Some of them were easy and obligatory: where did she live at the time of the incident? Did she have roommates? What was her job? Some of the questions, though, were much more personal and, well, intimate. Had she ever met the defendant before he attacked her? What was he wearing? Did he say anything? What could she remember about him?

"All right, I think I can handle this. I'll look it over tonight in more detail." Grace sat up a little straighter, as if good posture would equate to confidence.

"Okay, good," Andrea replied, a tight smile on her face. Then, just as quickly, she became serious and took a deep breath. Grace felt a nightmare coming on. "There's one other thing I wanted to talk to you about before this process gets underway."

"Okay," Grace said, with trepidation heavy in her voice.

"I know we have a significant amount of evidence in play here, particularly physical evidence, which is important since you say he wore a mask and you can't positively ID him. But I want to be doubly sure we have enough physical evidence to convict this bastard. I've been informed that your little girl there," Andrea said, motioning toward the floor where Amy's baby carrier sat. "Is a product of the rape."

Grace felt as though she'd been slapped. She hated referring to Amy that way, as if she were less than human and merely a consequence of someone else's hateful actions. Grace had just as much responsibility for Amy's existence as did her rapist, and hearing her referred to as a "product" of the rape made it seem like she belonged more to Scott McAndrews than to Grace, which was the furthest thing from the truth. Nonetheless, Grace nodded.

"She's my child, but Scott McAndrews is her sperm donor, yes."

Andrea half-smiled. "Good way to put it. Anyway, with your permission, I'd like to DNA test Amy against Scott McAndrews and officially confirm that he is her father. I'm guessing his argument will be one of two things. Either he'll claim that he didn't do it, which having the DNA test along with the rape kits would completely disprove, or he'll claim you were willing, which we can prove is nonsense with the physical evidence from your rape kit. Either way, he's gone."

"Right," Grace replied. "What would the DNA test involve? I don't want to hurt her…"

"Same way we DNA test suspects: cheek swab. That's all we need. If you'd feel more comfortable, you can give us some of her hair, her saliva, even a bottle she's drunk out of recently."

Grace considered this. On one hand, she had never listed a father on Amy's birth certificate, because, as she'd said, she viewed Scott McAndrews as nothing more than a sperm donor. He shouldn't get to claim parentage to her baby girl. On the other, if confirming him as Amy's father would help put him away, it would prevent any other woman from suffering what Grace suffered. It wasn't an easy choice.

"Can I think about it for a few days?" Grace lowered her eyes again. "It's just-" Andrea stood up and walked around the desk to sit in the chair next to Grace. She took one of Grace's shaky, sweaty hands in her own, and looked her directly in the eye.

"Of course, you can think about it, Grace. No one will force you to do anything you don't want to do here. But just keep in mind, we want to make sure he goes away. For a very long time. This could help."

Grace gave one final nod. "Is there anything else I need to know?"

"Yes," Andrea said, a look of resolve across her bronzed skin. "We're going to get the bastard. I promise."

* * *

Loki had to resist rolling his eyes every time a new request came through. Though he had only been at his job for two weeks now, he found it entirely too easy and felt that most of the patrons could have retrieved the materials they sought on their own. He felt like an underpaid errand boy. Then again, were that the case, he would not have a job at all. Still, it was not easy for one the Prince to do the bidding of others.

The library used a computer system through which patrons submitted research requests. Loki would then collect the books from his assigned department and bring them to the table number indicated on the request. Then, when he had retrieved and delivered the materials to the patron, he would close the request in the system so that work was not duplicated.

He printed the request from the computer, rose from his chair, grabbed the list from the printer across the room, and perused it as he walked off to the collection of medieval and Renaissance research books down the hall from his desk.

_"Shakespeare and Politics" by Bruce Altschuler  
"Thinking With Shakespeare," by Julia Lupton  
"Hamlet's Heirs: Shakespeare and the Politics of a New Millennium" by Linda Charnes._

_Please bring to desk 56 once the materials have been collected._

Apparently, this patron was researching how the Renaissance playwright William Shakespeare would view current Midgardian politics. Loki had read most of Shakespeare's works, as he was by far the most referenced and cited author of fiction in Midgard's brief history, and he found it quite sad that someone could take such interesting and beautiful works of art and use them in such a boring, trite way. He made a mental note to himself to search for and request copies of Hamlet, Henry V, and A Midsummer Night's Dream. He had not read them in ages, but felt that it might be beneficial to review Shakespeare's works in particular, since that was the most requested subject in his department. Any reason to read, really, would do for him. The books had to be ordered from other branches, as the main branch contained books that could only be read within the library's walls, but that was fine by him. He was becoming a patient man.

He reached his destination, between two story-high bookshelves in the recesses of the building. Some of the books were so high that, even with his above-average height, he needed to use a rolling ladder to retrieve them. These particular books, however, were on a lower section of the shelves, within his grasp. It might take him a few moments to locate their exact position, but this was the last order of the day, and then he could gather his belongings and head home.

_Home._ A concept which he had not fully understood until he came to Midgard in exile, until he had been cast out of the place which he had for so long called home but had never really believed it to be. Now, it was a small apartment in Brooklyn with Grace and Amy. A place he finally felt he belonged.

As he searched for the books, it suddenly occurred to him that Grace had not called him as she had promised to do after her meeting with the person in charge of prosecuting the case against her attacker. This concerned him. The last time she had had to deal with a situation related to the incident, she had landed in the hospital. When he had heard she was ill, he had dropped an armful of books and immediately dashed to her bedside, eager to ease her pain in any way he could. That time, Vivian had had the foresight to try to get him the message, but he could not count on that happening if something happened again. He did not even want to think of all the terrible fates that could befall someone in Grace's situation. As Thor had said, she had already suffered enough for three lifetimes.

He had contemplated a particular question in the past, with more sinister intentions, but this time was different. This time, the potential answers scared him.

How much pain, Loki wondered, could a mortal withstand?

* * *

At the same time as Loki was worrying about her, Grace was just finishing her backlog of work from the comfort of her couch while Amy slept up in her parents' apartment. She had wanted to go back to work immediately after her release from the hospital, but her boss would not budge. He wanted her to work from home until after the grand jury proceedings, and then to come back to work until the trial began, at which point he was insisting on giving her paid time off, as they might for jury duty. Grace was thankful on one hand, but on the other, she'd have preferred to be at the office, going about her business as though nothing was happening.

She divided her life into two parts: "before" and "after." Her struggle to regain control of her life was not without difficulty, but since she had, she wanted nothing to change that. It was important to her that, as much as possible, life went on "after" as it had "before."

Before the rape, she had been a dancer. Not a professional dancer, of course. She was far too clumsy for that. Rather than spending hours on a treadmill every week, however, she chose to instead turn up her stereo and spend half an hour or so every day simply dancing through the apartment, sometimes cleaning at the same time, sometimes just losing herself in the music. She had not danced since the rape. At first, it seemed there was no reason to dance. She had been too miserable, too lost in her own version of hell, too far into the darkness of hatred and pain to care about anything that might bring her happiness. Then, when she discovered she was pregnant, after she had finally made peace with it and decided to keep the baby, when hate had finally drained from her, she had simply been too exhausted. Finally, after Amy's birth, there were so many pragmatic things keeping her from personal enjoyment: sleep schedules, feeding times, financial burdens. She was happy and full of love, but too busy to think about doing anything for herself.

Now, it seemed like maybe there was reason and time enough to dance again.

She threw aside the draft of the trial brief she was revising and pulled herself off the couch. She flipped on the television and switched the input to select the device that allowed her to play music from her computer through the television's speakers. Scrolling through the list, she realized that not long before the rape, she had compiled a list of music to dance to, which she had then promptly forgotten about in the aftermath. Now seemed like the perfect time to enjoy it, alone and uninhibited. She hit play, and the room reverberated with the sounds of Britney Spears' voice against a heavy bass. She was glad she lived on the ground floor, and that the apartments on either side of her were, for the time being, vacant.

Since she had no plans to leave the apartment complex, she had thrown on a black button-down, cotton shirtdress that tied at the waist and had a spread neckline, leaving her legs and feet bare. She bounced around the living room into the kitchen, where she filled the coffee pot and turned it on for a fresh afternoon brew to share with Luke when he got home from work - which should have been any minute. The music melted into her body, or her body into music, she couldn't be sure which. She felt energized, even doing a few cheesy moves from her days as a cheerleader in high school.

The next song came on - "Kiss You" by that cheesy pop band One Direction - just as Loki walked through the door. He saw her flailing about, and could not help but laugh aloud at the sight. Though as he had made his way home he had planned to have words with her for worrying him, he could not bring himself to be angry in the face of her energy and obvious good mood. She saw him come in, but the joy running through her body did not leave room for embarrassment. He shut the door behind him and leaned against the wall, arms folded, still chuckling as she approached him, light on her feet. It wasn't until she'd grabbed his hands that he realized what she was expecting, and he shook his head.

_Oh, I just wanna take you anywhere that you like  
We could go out any day, any night  
Baby I'll take you there, take you there  
Baby I'll take you there, yeah_

"No! Absolutely not! I said no!" He shouted above the music, but Grace either did not hear him or did not care what he said.

"Come on! It'll make you feel better!"

"I do not need to feel better! I feel perfectly fine! This is madness!"

Unrelenting, she moved his arms back and forth, trying to get him to move with her rhythm, but he protested. He felt idiotic. He had never been much for dancing, even in Asgard where the dances were formal and rehearsed. She could not seriously expect him to perform like a trained monkey.

_Oh, tell me tell me tell me how to turn your love on  
You can get, get anything that you want  
Baby just shout it out, shout it out  
Baby just shout it out, yeah_

However, all defenses were lost to him in the reflection of her shining, stormy eyes. He could only resist her for so long. Her unabashed, unashamed bliss radiated from every part of her, and Loki half expected sunlight to burst from her skin. Watching her body glide, he felt himself start to give in to her pull, and at last, he was moving with her. She smiled, clearly pleased with herself, and encouraged him to keep going, never letting go of his hands.

_Tell me, girl, if every time we to-o-uch  
You get this kind of ru-u-ush  
Baby, say yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah  
If you don't wanna take it slow  
And you just wanna take me home  
Baby, say yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah  
And let me kiss you._

The song was upbeat, the lyrics were silly, but it was still, at its core, a love song. As they moved through the living room, Grace's high-pitched laugh rang through his ears, and he realized how much he had missed hearing it. She danced closer to him now, moving her hips hypnotically, until she had made her way into his strong arms, and he held her close, still moving with the beat, but hanging on for dear life, wishing he could capture this moment in a frame, keep it with him in case it never happened again. The chorus repeated, even more powerful than before.

_Tell me, girl, if every time we to-o-uch  
You get this kind of ru-u-ush  
Baby, say yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah  
If you don't wanna take it slow  
And you just wanna take me home  
Baby, say yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah  
And let me kiss you._

He wrapped his hand around her back and took in the feeling of the crepe dress beneath his long fingers. His other hand found hers, and he held it at an angle next to them, slowing their movements just slightly, and he spun her around, twirling her under his arm, then gathering her back into his arms, holding her even closer, thinking he might just burst from the madness of it all. Loki, the God of Mischief, Chaos, and Lies, Prince of Asgard, someone who had once been a murderer, a madman, and all it took to tame him was dancing, dancing, still dancing with his own personal goddess -

_Tell me, girl, if every time we to-o-uch_  
_You get this kind of ru-u-ush_

- and they were both breathing rather heavily from the exertion, but for the first time in a very long time, Grace was not thinking about the past, nor was she thinking of the future. For the first time in a very long time, she felt spontaneous, weightless, and even a little bit dangerous -

_If you don't wanna take it slow_  
_And you just wanna take me home_

- and before Loki could even think about it, and before Grace's mind could tell her all the reasons it was a bad idea, before either of them could talk themselves down, Loki spun Grace into a low, deep dip on his left side. With her arms around his neck for support, she craned her neck up, closed her eyes, and their lips met, a wave of ice and heat surging around them, both their hearts crashing against their chests so hard that it was impossible to tell whose heartbeat was whose, or maybe it didn't even matter anymore because they were already one and the same -

_And let me kiss you._


	23. First Fight

**Author's Note: **I admit to you now, I struggled with this chapter. I know where it's going from here, but the emotions of this story started to mess with me and I needed to step back for a few days. Sorry for the brevity of this update... next chapter will be longer, I promise. :(

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Three: First Fight

Song: "Save Me From Myself" by Hanson

He lifted her up but never let her go. One hand remained wrapped around her waist, the other lifted to cup her face delicately. Loki felt her cool skin under his touch, how she trembled slightly, the way her arms tightened around his neck as he drew her closer to him. He sucked gently on her lower lip and heard her moan softly under her breath, which only served to make him want her more. Even now, he desperately needed to be closer still to her. His tongue explored her mouth as if trying to drink her, dancing with hers as they had danced to the song.

Grace's lips tingled as if brushed by peppermint as they moved against his. She could barely breathe and could not think, at least not about anything except that he tasted like red, heat and cinnamon and cherries taken all at once. She felt tiny explosions deep in her belly, though she had believed that valve shut off long ago. Her pulse raced in time with his, and she pressed against him firmly, feeling his heartbeat flutter against her chest.

By now, the song had changed, its beat pulsing, vibrating the floor beneath them. He shifted against her, moving his hand up and down her back, feeling the lines of her shoulder blades beneath her dress. He was sure if he opened his eyes that the moment would disappear before them, despite a deep desire to open them and watch her kiss him back. Then, just as if she had read his mind, Grace suddenly pushed him back, gently but firmly, breaking the seal of their mouths. As the kiss broke, Loki was certain he could see sparks literally fly.

"Luke…" She gasped for air, breathless from the intensity of the kiss. He gazed down at her, his eyes wild with passion, and saw that her eyes were shining sapphire. However, taken with the rest of her face, he was not sure that she returned the emotion quite as much.

"Grace…?" Her name on his lips made her shiver with desire, which in turn set off several alarms in her head.

"I can't-," she replied, shaking her head and turning away from him. She lowered her head, staring at her painted toenails. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry?" He raised an eyebrow.

"That's what I said."

"No, what I mean to say is, I don't understand," he said, trying to comprehend what she was saying just as much as what she was not. He dared not move toward her, but remained steadfast in his quest for understanding. "Do you not feel toward me as your kiss suggested?"

"I don't know what I feel," Grace cried. "Except for terrified."

"Terrified?" The word dug into his ears like a dagger. "What have I done to terrify you? I have never laid a hand on you, never raised my voice to you-"

"No, you haven't," she said. Her words were measured and even, as if she were trying not to lose control. "Everything about this situation terrifies me, Luke. The last man who kissed me was the man who raped me, so you'll have to forgive me if I'm a little freaked out right now. I wish this was easy for me, I wish I were like any other girl, but I'm not. I have had to work twice as hard to have control over my life than anyone else has to work to have control over their own, and then you show up and turn everything upside down. I'm not saying it's good or bad, but it's different, and for me, different is terrifying." Her hands flew to her face, rubbing her eyes and then massaging her temples.

She turned back around but still refused to look at him, arms wrapped around herself in a tight hug, still gazing down. He could not tell for certain, but believed she was crying again. Unlike in the past, however, Loki felt responsible this time, and this, more than anything he had done in his life to cause others pain, he could not bear. He sunk down into the armchair next to where he stood, unable to work words from his tongue to the air. He wanted to go back in time to five minutes before, to when he was kissing her, so that he could keep his mouth on hers for just a bit longer, so that he could prove to her what she needed to know - that he could never intentionally cause her pain.

Grace twisted inside. She knew what she felt toward Luke was real, but that made it all the more dangerous. She had struggled for a year to retrieve what there was of a normal life for her and Amy, and she did not want to risk that normalcy for what she could only consider a hormonal reaction to a stressful situation.

Then again, she still could not explain the reason she felt so drawn to him, why she had felt drawn to him from the moment they had first met that night in the park. She could not explain why she felt the need to keep seeing him night after night, why she insisted on helping him when she found out he was homeless. She could not explain why she wanted him to stay with her, why it comforted her when he stayed with her in the hospital, why her heart flew to her throat when she saw him splayed out in slumber with Amy across his chest.

Finally, she looked up into his pained, eager eyes.

"Luke, it's not that I don't feel things for you. But it's not easy for me. It doesn't come as easy for me as it does for you."

At this, Loki's brain burst open and his mouth had the unfortunate task of following suit.

"You think it is easy for me to admit that I feel so strongly toward you?" He took a step forward, coming to within a few inches of her face. "Do you think it is easy for me to say that despite surviving my entire life thus far without feeling this… emotion… toward any being that I now feel it as strongly as my brother does toward his lover?"

"Your brother? I didn't even know you had-" Loki's arms flew out at his sides as he continued his rampage.

"I am a solitary creature, Grace Lawson. I do not have need of anyone, and I never have. Companionship has never been my desire, certainly not the companionship of a woman and a child. I was perfectly happy to be on my own until such a time as I could return to my home. Then, you appear as if from thin air and you force me to feel-"

The minute the words spilled from his lips, he wanted to gather them up and obliterate them with his long-forgotten scepter. Grace's mouth was hanging slightly open, her eyes filling with tears. This time, however, Loki noticed that her eyes flared and her face became lined with white hot rage, the same rage that he had felt fighting Steve Rogers in Stuttgart, when he sent the Destroyer after Thor. The same rage that had, ultimately, been his downfall.

Then, just as quickly as the flame of anger danced across her face, it vanished, leaving only a stare as icy and hard as Loki's Jotun form.

With not so much as one word, she walked past him and out the front door, leaving him to choke on the words he wished he hadn't said.

* * *

Grace threw open the door to her parents' apartment. She resisted calling out to her mother just in case Amy was sleeping, but thundered through the hallway barefoot, stomping every step of the way. Turning the corner into the dining room, she found Vivian sitting at the long table with Amy in her high chair at one of the place settings. Vivian was trying to feed Amy some smashed potatoes, but most of them seemed to have wound up on Vivian's sweater. She briefly glanced up at her daughter, then did a double-take when she saw the emotion splashed across Grace's face. She was flushed, and taking shallow breaths, nostrils flaring. Vivian knew this look well - she'd been on the receiving end of it many times when Grace was a teenager.

"Uh oh," Vivian said, spooning another helping of potatoes toward Amy's mouth, successfully landing this one. "What did he do?"

Grace kissed Amy affectionately on the top of her curls, then folded her arms and leaned against the dining room wall.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Of course you do," Vivian replied, a corner of her mouth turning up. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have stomped in here with the same look you had when you were a teenager mad at your father."

Grace sighed and pulled out the chair oppose Amy's highchair.

"He just said something that pissed me off. We started arguing because we kissed, and then-"

Vivian smiled, and opened the jar of mashed bananas sitting on the highchair tray.

"I was wondering when it would finally happen."

Grace's head jerked up, and she stared at her mother slackjawed. Vivian's smile grew wider, and she spooned a helping of bananas into Amy's mouth. Amy was much more receptive to dessert.

"I admit, I wasn't entirely sure things were heading that way for a while. But the minute I saw how he looked at you when you were sick, I knew how he felt. It just took until now for you to admit how you feel." She spoke in measured tones, as if they were simply discussing the weather. "So, tell me, dear, is he a good kisser?"

"Uh, hello? Did you miss the part where I said we got in a fight?" Grace was aghast. How was this so apparently obvious to her mother, but she felt so mixed up about it?

"Okay," Vivian said, setting down the spoon and turning to face Grace in earnest. She folded her hands and set them in front of her on the table. "What was the fight about?"

Grace inhaled deeply. "We kissed, and I just… I got so confused and scared, Mom, I mean, he lives with me, and what if things don't work out, what if something happens and I get hurt again or Amy gets hurt? And all these thoughts are swirling around in my head, and so I stopped the whole thing. And he got upset, and asked me if I didn't feel about him- if I didn't have feelings for him. And I said I didn't know what I felt, and he just got even more upset, and he said that I forced him to feel things that he hadn't felt before. And that's when I left."

Her anger had dissipated by now, and the words made what happened sound less awful than it had felt at the time.

Vivian's forehead wrinkled, and she considered Grace's words carefully.

"Well, on one hand, sweetheart, I understand your fears. I myself had the same fear for you, and for Amy, when you first suggested that Luke move into your place. Your father shared my concerns. Still does, frankly," she said. But she smiled. "But, on the other, you have to understand where he's coming from, too. Did you ever stop to think that maybe he's confused about his feelings, too?"

Grace had to admit, she hadn't, thought about that possibility.

"But, Mom, he said I forced him-"

"Words, honey. I know that they weren't the best choice of words for him to use around you, but they were only said in the heat of the moment. I'm sure if you go back down there, he will be ready and waiting to apologize. But I also think you should apologize for storming out on him."

She expected the look her daughter was giving her, from the stunned look in her cobalt eyes to the tremble in her lower lip. Grace wasn't ready to go back to face him yet. She knew her mother was right, but she didn't have the courage to admit it just yet.

"I think I'd rather just stay here for the night, if that's okay, Mom." Vivian sighed and walked to Grace's side of the table, kissing her on the head just as Grace had kissed Amy just minutes earlier.

"Of course, sweetheart. My girls are always welcome here." And as if on cue, Amy chose that exact moment to crash out of her highchair to the floor, smacking her head on the way down.

* * *

Loki, on the other hand, was positively miserable. He never thought he would wish to speak with Heimdall again, but at the moment, what he wanted most was to ask him where she was so that he could go to her, apologize for what he had said, and try to find out what he had done wrong.

He wandered through the empty, darkened rooms, looking for he knew not what. He made himself a sandwich for dinner, but barely even picked at it. His appetite was little. He attempted to read to lull himself to sleep, but his eyes kept wandering from the page at every noise in the building. He even checked Amy's room a couple of times, even though he knew the room would be as empty as it had been all day.

Eventually, wanting to distract himself from the deafening silence blaring throughout the apartment, he turned on the television and found himself on the same program Grace had used to play the song they had danced to just hours earlier. It seemed that moment had been but a dream now. Yet he could still taste her on his mouth, still feel her skin burning against his.

He scrolled through the list of songs, not even knowing what he was looking for, as he was completely unfamiliar with most Midgardian music. He finally got tired of scrolling and simply hit "shuffle" on the list of options. The first song that played made the breath catch in his throat. He buried his face in his hands. He had not cried since he was a child, not for anything, but now he was crying for himself, for Grace, and, in the deepest part of his heart that had only just been awakened, for all the times he had caused pain in the lives of others. He was only now beginning to understand the true consequences of losing what one loved.

_Amelia was always the one for me but she, she wouldn't stay  
__And on a fine day, I came home to find that she had sailed away  
__Maybe I am broken, in some way I can't say  
__And I don't wanna change but lord knows that I need some help  
__To save me from myself_

_Cecilia with flowers in her hair was like the sun, she brought me the light  
__And I can't tell you for the life of me why I would choose to let it burn out  
__I wish I was numb, alone here in my cell  
__Cause something in my heart is making me not feel so well  
__Won't you save me from myself_

_I get no sleep 'cause I'm all alone  
__Like a living shadow where there once was bone  
__One cut deep and the other went sour  
__And no one's to blame but I feel so shattered  
__Maybe I am lacking  
__Still inside my shell  
__'Cause I keep making waves and falling victim to the swell  
__Won't you save me from myself  
__Please God, save me from myself_

It was a sleepless night for them both.


	24. Words

**Author's Note: **First, this chapter is dedicated to tumblr user suchapill, who has been a source of support and comfort to me when writing became difficult these last few days. These chapters continue to get harder for me but that just means that the therapy is working and my plot is getting more complex! I really appreciate everyone who has stuck with this story all this time, and to all my new readers, welcome and please enjoy and review if you can! :) Lots of Loki/Amy this chapter, and if you look closely, there's a reference to one of his most famous lines... see if you can catch it!

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Four: Words

Song: The Other Side of the Door by Taylor Swift

The knock at the front door jolted him from his stilted sleep on the couch. He had spent the night tossing and turning in his bed, until he realized that sleep would not be coming. So, he had sat on the couch reading a book until he finally, mercifully fell into slumber around dawn. He rolled from the couch to the floor, then stood up slowly, as the second knock came. As he passed the armchair, he glanced at the clock: six o'clock in the morning.

Grace looked more disheveled than he had ever seen her. The skin around her eyes was creased, her hair was matted, and she looked like she had not slept for more than hour, maybe two. She held her arms across her chest, hugging herself as she had the evening before, but she did not look angry this time. She looked simply exhausted.

"Hey." The only word she uttered, yet it was the most beautiful word Loki had ever heard.

"Hello." His back stiffened and he stood a little straighter, though he knew not why, because it was not his intention to appear imposing.

"Sorry to wake you," she said, her voice kind, but her eyes avoiding contact with his. "I left my keys here last night when I left, and I need to shower. Grand jury's today."

"Ah," he replied, stepping aside to allow her passage. He sleepily rubbed his hair. "Is there… is there anything I may assist with before then?"

"Now that you mention it, there is." She passed, still not allowing herself to look at him, heading down the hallway toward her room. He followed languidly. "Amy had a little accident last night."

His head jerked up. He was suddenly wide awake, his heart throbbing, voice shaking as he talked, betraying a slight panic.

"What happened? Why did you not call me? Is she all right?" At this, Grace gave a small smile. It was sweet how much he seemed to care for Amy, especially given his initial reluctance even to touch her.

"She's fine, really," Grace assured him. Upon entering her room, she walked to her closet to start selecting clothes before her shower. "Just had a little tumble from her high chair last night."

"You are certain she is not injured?"

"We took her to the urgent care last night to be sure, but yeah. Babies bounce," Grace replied over her shoulder, holding up two different suits on hangers, debating between them. "When I was nine months, I rolled off my parents' bed while my father was babysitting me. Why my mother thought leaving me alone with him was a good idea, I have no idea. Anyway, I fell and smacked my face on the nightstand, and I turned out okay. Didn't even bruise. Appears I've always had a hard head."

She looked at him in earnest now, trying to break the awkwardness. Despite himself, he half-smiled, and the air felt just slightly lighter.

"At any rate," she continued. "My mom is going with me for moral support. She can't be in the room, but she wants to drive me there and back…"

"…of course I will take care of her." He finished not only her sentence but her thought as well. Grace wondered if it was because she relied on him so much that he just expected the request, or if he could read her mind. She blushed, feeling almost bad about wanting to confirm his suspicion, especially given the events of the previous evening.

"Are you sure? Because I totally understand, it's your day off, and I can ask Leah or-"

"Grace," he started, slowly approaching. "Nothing has changed. We may resume our relationship as it was. I do not wish to hurt you."

She exhaled deeply, then tossed one of the skirts onto the bed and hung the other back in the closet. "Okay."

"Okay?" He could not tell if there was more to her one-word answer than met the ear.

"Okay. Mom will bring Amy down when she comes to get me at eight. She'll have already eaten."

He turned to leave, but she called to him. He turned back to face her, hands behind his back.

"I know I don't say it enough. But thank you." A small smile on her lips made his heart swell.

As hard as he had cried the night before, so too did he smile now. "I think you have thanked me more than anyone else in my life. You have nothing to worry about."

* * *

"You ready?" Andrea took a sip of her coffee as she and Grace made the two-block walk from Andrea's office on Hogan Place to the New York Supreme Court building on Centre Street. Vivian had dropped Grace off outside the District Attorney's office as Grace had requested, and then headed over to the Courthouse on her own. If any press expected to see Grace pull up in front of the building, they would be sorely disappointed.

"As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose," Grace replied, tightening her low ponytail behind her head and pulling down her conservative, grey knit suit skirt. Andrea's list of questions had also included a recommendation that Grace dress conservatively, but Grace had not needed the suggestion. She had dressed in a suit that she usually wore to court with her bosses during trial, black ballet flats, and - the bane of women worldwide - pantyhose.

"Relax. This is the easy part, remember?" Andrea's southern drawl was in full effect that morning. _Reba McEntire in a power suit, _Grace thought.

They had spent the first part of the morning in Andrea's office, finalizing Grace's testimony, Grace asking several last-minute questions of Andrea. What could she expect from the jurors? What evidence would be presented today? Were there any other witnesses? And, the most important question as far as Grace was concerned - would Scott McAndrews be there? Logically, Grace knew the answer to that last question. Defendants were never present at grand jury hearings. Nonetheless, she wanted reassurance.

As they approached the courthouse, Grace could see a throng of reporters milling around the stone steps, waiting for a sign of an approaching victim. McAndrews was the heir to a local cosmetics line and the news of his arrest caused a sensation among local reporters. Especially after the announcement that McAndrews intended to fight the charges despite the overwhelming physical evidence, the press had been coagulating around the courthouse every day, waiting for news. Grace had seen how the press could sway a trial one way or another, but never having been on the prosecution's side of things, she was not sure how much help they would be to her. On one hand, they did not often like to blame the victim in a rape case. On the other, the accused was an heir, good-looking and rich. It could go either way, but Grace did not feel she had the energy to find out this particular day.

Thankfully, before any of the vultures could begin to circle, Andrea tugged on her arm to pull her away from the front steps.

"We're going to go in one of the side entrances," Andrea said, tossing her coffee cup into the trash and shifting her briefcase to her other hand. "I don't want to deal with that mob right now. I'll talk to them after the indictment is handed down."

Before Grace entered the imposing stone building, she hesitated. She had been inside this building a million times before. It should not have scared her in the slightest to enter it. But this time was different. This time, she wasn't here to file a pleading or pick up documents. This time, she was here as a victim. What made going inside this familiar venue difficult this time was that even though she was here to start the process of putting her attacker away, in the back of her mind, Grace felt like she was the one bearing the burden of a lengthy prison sentence.

* * *

Loki was relieved that he had apparently understood the workings of a stroller adequately enough to keep Amy from having another accident. There had seemed to be ten thousand belts, straps, and buttons on the thing, and he was not even sure he'd affixed them all in their correct positions, but for the time being, Amy seemed securely locked into place. At the very least, he'd been able to keep her in the stroller long enough to arrive at the Park Slope branch of the Brooklyn library.

After Vivian had deposited Amy with him before picking Grace up for court, the two of them had taken a short nap together on the couch, Loki reading another chapter of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone before falling asleep. When they awoke, both feeling refreshed, Loki had decided that they had spent entirely too much time indoors during the cold winter months. He realized, however, that a baby could not be exposed to cold temperatures for as long as he himself might be able to, so he tried to think of someplace within walking distance of the apartment where they could also spend an hour or two upon arrival.

The library, he had decided, was as good a place as any. Perhaps he could find the second installment of the Harry Potter series. As silly as the "magic" was, the writing was not terrible, and the plot was intriguing enough. Loki could even identify with the boy who lived under the stairs - he often felt, as a child, that he did not belong to the family into which he was born… and later in life, he figured out why.

The weather was mercifully mild that day, so Loki did not have to bundle Amy in the layers of clothing that he'd seen Grace struggle with so many times. He made sure that her hat fit snugly over the small bump on her head from her fall the night before, which, when his fingers ran over it, made her flinch ever so slightly. Putting her coat on caused no issue. However, he did have a bit of trouble when she had fussed over putting on her shoes. The baby was quicker than his fingers were nimble. She had managed to kick the shoes off four times before he realized that it was better to lace one into place before trying to put on the other. Amy, however, had seemed to relish what she viewed as a game, giggling the entire time.

"You do realize that I am a God, correct?" Loki had rolled his eyes at the child, finally secured in her stroller, which only served to make her squeal in delight. She seemed to enjoy taunting him, though he knew that thought was ridiculous. She was, after all, only a mortal child.

The library was a large brick building with a double set of columns outside its front doors, which led directly into a grand foyer outfitted with a beautiful, stained glass ceiling. Loki pushed the stroller in front of him, while Amy lazily sucked on a pacifier. Immediately, no less than five women with equally young children in strollers turned to gaze at him, expressions turning soft as they took in the sight of the tall, dark-featured man with the ginger baby. Loki ignored them all, intent only on finding his way to the children's section. While on the walk to the library, the thought occurred to him that he could make reading to Amy a nightly occurrence. He thought of the days he had spent at his mother's feet, her reading book after book to him, teaching him how to use magic and skill to survive rather than brute force as Thor learned from their father. He never imagined he might one day have the chance, let alone the desire, to pass along those lessons to a child of his own. But perhaps Amy, with her impish smile and perceptive nature, might be worth the effort. He knew he could not teach her magic - he couldn't even use his own magic with his exile! - but he could at least impart a love of learning and wisdom to her that, he felt, was so lacking in most of the universe's populations.

The children's books were kept on the far side of the library, which had recently undergone renovations to increase its already expansive size. To reach them, Loki had to pass the non-fiction section, which impressed him with its volume. Each row of books had not only the call numbers of the books in that row, but also the subject matter. Loki gazed at them as he passed. Architecture. Animals. Biographies. Cooking.

Suddenly, Loki stopped. _Cooking._

Glancing up at the large clock hanging overhead, he noted the time: two o'clock in the afternoon. He then looked at Amy, who seemed quite content to take in her surroundings, turning her head from side to side like a little rooster. _If I hurry, _he thought, _perhaps I can accomplish my goal here, and then some._

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want to come up and have dinner with us, sweetie?" Vivian opened the front door to the apartment complex and let Grace go in ahead of her.

"I'm sure, Mom," she replied, shaking her head. "I really just want to go and hug my daughter and have a glass of wine. I'll order something later. Besides, I'm sure Luke could use a break from babysitting. I've already imposed enough."

Vivian smiled and pushed a lock of her greying hair behind her ear. "Oh, I have a feeling he doesn't mind as much as you think he does. I don't know if you noticed, but when we left, he looked quite comfortable with Amy sitting on his lap."

Grace returned the smile tiredly.

"Even still," she said. "She can be quite a little handful, and if they've been cooped in the apartment all day…"

"All right," Vivian replied, getting the hint. "But if you change your mind, your father and I would be happy to have you up."

Vivian opened her arms for a hug, which Grace fell into easily. Sometimes, even though she loved Amy with her whole heart, it was difficult for her to be a mature, responsible parent. Sometimes, she just wanted to be her own parents' little girl, six years old, in pigtails and overalls, complaining about going to Hebrew school instead of complaining about college funds and courtroom drama.

They stayed that way for a minute, two generations of Lawson women, with a third just down the hall. After a minute, Vivian took Grace's face in her hands, and kissed her on the forehead.

"_Bubbeleh,_" Vivian said. "I love you, and I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks, _Mamaleh_," Grace joked. "Ugh, I'm amazed I even have the energy to be funny right now."

"Get some rest," Vivian replied. "I'll check on you tomorrow."

They parted ways, and Grace walked towards her apartment down the hallway. The grand jury had been exhausting, emotionally and physically. Even though the hearing was totally one-sided toward the prosecution, Grace still had to answer question after question about the rape and all its horrors. Andrea was as gentle as she could be, but she had to impart to the jury the nightmare Grace had suffered at the hands of the defendant, and to do that, Grace had to tell the story from beginning to end. She had to go through each step, minute by endless minute - how McAndrews had sneaked into her apartment, the details of how he had taken her clothes off, every humiliating moment of the penetration, and the aftermath - including when she had discovered she was pregnant. She had hated that part the most. The way she had had to describe her discovery of Amy's conception and the miracle of her birth felt mechanical and cold, not at all the way she felt about actually being Amy's mother.

Thankfully, McAndrews was not in the room for any of this, but Grace knew that was to be a short-lived miracle; he would be in the courtroom for every other part of this process, especially when Grace took the stand during the trial. The only chance Grace had to avoid having to face him would be if he took a plea bargain before her testimony, but that was increasingly unlikely as time went on. At the very least, the trial would begin, and even then, Grace knew, Andrea would have to deal his case several blows before he would even consider a deal.

Before she opened her door, she leaned against the wall outside it, trying to regain her composure. Smoothing her hair back from her face and retying her ponytail, she wished she had gone to her parents' apartment to freshen up before coming home. She knew she probably looked like a Mack truck had hit her, but the less terrible she looked, the more likely Luke was to leave it alone. Even though she knew she couldn't put it off forever, she just didn't want to talk about the hearing right now.

However, when she opened the door to her apartment, no one was there to ask her any questions. The lights were dim, and what looked like every candle she owned flickered like fireflies in the summer sky. The kitchen light was on just enough so that whoever might be cooking could see what he or she was doing, and the scents of garlic and oregano wafted through the air. As Grace entered the apartment and laid her coat over the back of the armchair, she saw there were two pans on the stove, one of which was covered with a lid and set to simmer. The dining room table, so infrequently used, was set for two, and Amy's high chair had been moved between the two place settings, its tray set with a small place setting of its own.

Grace's mind swam, cloudy with exhaustion. She walked to the stove and saw that the covered pan was full of diced tomatoes, oregano, minced garlic, and fresh basil leaves. She lifted the lid and the delicious smell wafted past her nose, making her empty stomach growl. She had not realized how hungry she was until just now, having only eaten half a sandwich at lunch out of sheer nervousness.

Just as she was about to call out for him, Luke appeared from the hallway, carrying Amy on his shoulders. He seemed to be expecting her, because he did not even jump at her arrival.

"I see you have been snooping," he said, eyeing the pan whose lid Grace held in her hand.

Grace smiled.

"Kinda hard not to, it smells so great! Who helped you do this?"

"I beg your pardon," Loki replied, feigning offense. "I will have you know that I achieved this on my own. Well, with the help of… err… a cookbook."

"You cooked this yourself, for me?"

"Not entirely for you," he said, raising his eyes upward toward Amy, who was quite clearly enjoying the ride on her makeshift horse. "The both of us intend to eat as well. I assure you, we have had quite the adventurous day!"

"I'm sure you have," Grace replied, extending her arms toward Amy. Loki kneeled before Grace, allowing her to pluck Amy from his shoulders and take her into an embrace. However, in the process of hugging her, Grace could not help but notice that something was wrong with Amy's diaper. She held the girl away from her, and tilted her head, examining.

"Oh my God," she said, and then started to laugh, harder than she had in weeks.

"While I am quite pleased with my culinary efforts, I must confess I was not as confident in my diapering skills," Loki muttered. While he was making dinner, Amy needed changed, he explained, but he had never diapered a child before. He tried his hardest, but found it difficult to read the instructions on the diapers while keeping a struggling toddler in place on the changing table. Grace kept laughing as she grabbed a fresh diaper from the diaper bag near the door, and then placed Amy on the counter. He had the general idea correct, but had put Amy's left foot through the waist hole. It was a valiant effort, but some things, Grace supposed, would come with practice.

When she fixed the minor disaster Loki had created with the diaper, she picked Amy up and walked toward Loki, who finished putting the spaghetti from the box into the boiling pot of water next to the still-simmering pan of sauce and turned to face the two females standing before him. Sitting on Grace's hip, Amy reached her chubby arms out toward Loki. Suddenly, her face scrunched up as if she were concentrating very hard on something. Her eyes narrowed and focused directly on Loki's.

"L…oo!"

Grace's mouth dropped open and then spread into a smile.

"Oh. My. God," she stuttered, eyes blinking rapidly. Most mothers would be utterly crushed by their child's first word being anything other than "mommy." However, Grace was slowly learning to accept emotions as they came, not to doubt them, and the only emotion that filled her heart was the same joy she had felt when she saw the two most important people in her life snuggled together on her couch, peaceful in sleep.

"I do not understand," Luke replied, confused.

"You didn't hear that?"

"I speak several languages, but 'baby' is not one of them," he said mirthlessly. "Please explain what I am missing."

"Loo! Loo!" Amy said again, still reaching for him. Grace handed Amy to him, and Amy immediately wrapped her arms around his neck, repeating the word over and over, as if trying to make him understand.

Suddenly, it dawned on him.

"She's… saying Luke?" Grace nodded excitedly.

He smiled externally, but inside, was more than a little conflicted. On one hand, he felt a strong bond between himself and this child, whether because of spending time with her or because of the care he felt for her mother. On the other, he found a terrible irony in the fact that the first word this child uttered, a word learned because of his presence in her life, was a lie.


	25. In Dreams

**Author's Note: **A short one, and you'll probably understand why. Powerful, though, I think. Please be kind. :)

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Five: In Dreams

Song: Bridge Over Troubled Water (pick your artist, I'm going with Simon & Garfunkel)

The Chitauri were coming. There was no stopping them.

New York was burning before his eyes. The Empire State Building exploded in a mass of metal and smoke. Trees in Central Park erupted in flames, the wind fanning the fire, spreading it faster than the firefighters could control. Cars crashed along Fifth Avenue, yellow cabs smashing into busses into concrete slabs and buildings. Screams of fear, of pain, of anger floated upward toward his perch on Stark Tower.

Loki heard them all, but was powerless to stop them, no matter how badly he wanted to. He called out, begged The Other to call off the invasion, to send the warriors back from whence they came. He promised the Tesseract to them regardless, offered up all the power he had been given and more, if the slaughter could end. He had not expected this madness, nor had he craved it. He only wanted a throne from which to rule, his birthright, to belong to a place, to have someone worship him the way they worshipped his father and his brother.

It was useless. The Other and his forces continued their onslaught, bringing with them the Leviathans, knocking over skyscrapers and crashing down upon homes, businesses, innocents, all of them innocents, and yet, Loki heard only one voice among them. A familiar voice, high pitched and wailing. Pained. Terrorized.

"Please, stop! Stop! Oh, God, stop!"

He threw himself off the tower, aboard one of the coasting gold gliders; he was desperate to track Her down, to stop what he knew was in progress.

"Stop! No!"

He heard the voice becoming louder as he got closer, dodging beams of light and death rays shooting green and blue from the ongoing battle. He rocketed past Tony Stark's Iron Man, who was trying to distract one of the giant snakes, while the Black Widow and the Soldier battled the Chitauri on the ground. Closer and closer he came to the screaming, Her voice echoing in his ears, louder still.

Finally, as if on autopilot, the glider crashed through the plate glass window in the lobby of a large apartment complex, hurtling him to the floor. He sprang to his feet, clutching the scepter to his chest, trying to get his bearings. Her shrieking was feverish now, desperate and pleading.

From somewhere above, his brother's voice boomed: "Loki! What have you done?"

And then, the voice, pleading with Her attacker: "You don't have to do this! You can stop now! I won't tell, I promise!"

A new voice rang out through the din, deeper and more menacing: "Shut the fuck up, bitch, or I will slit your fucking throat."

He had to find Her.

Loki ran through the hallways, but the smoke was thick and billowing around him, making it almost impossible to see. He tried to use his magic to clear it, but to no avail. There was too much of it, too evil for even his powers to overcome. His armor felt heavier than it ever did, dragging him down as he tried to move faster.

He called Her name, but only Her protests against the threats of Her captor continued.

"Where are you? Please, just tell me where you are! I will come for you!"

He was growing desperate now, frantically darting through open doors, throwing his weight against those that were locked to break them open, stumbling in the thick, murky smoke, trying to see any sign of movement beyond it in each room. Through one door, up this set of stairs, out a door, down that hallway. He repeated this process several times, sweeping each floor, but still unable to find Her. He grew more frustrated, more filled with rage with each failed mission.

Suddenly, a great scream of pain erupted, piercing his ears straight into his soul. The sound was animalistic, not of this world. The second voice was roaring and angry, telling Her to shut up, cursing, commanding, demanding, angrier and angrier each passing minute. Loki could almost feel that anger as if it were his own, and it made him even more determined to hunt down and utterly destroy its source.

Finally, Loki reached the top floor of the building, where the fire was raging the hottest. And at the very end of the long hallway, he saw one last door, white, with a colorful tapestry hanging from it. He launched himself at it, scepter in hand, prepared to destroy whatever malevolent being was attacking Her. The door opened easily, and to his surprise, there was no sign of the fire raging on the other side of it. There was no smoke. The room was bare, except for two people thrashing against one another, before he threw Her to the floor like a rag doll. She landed on her back with a sickening thud.

On the floor She lay, mocha-colored hair matted and tangled with blood that ran from several thick gashes along her forehead. She had a split lip and scratched knuckles and arms from the fight She had put up. She was still crying out, struggling to get away from him, to no avail. His body was lanky but lean and strong. He pushed Her legs farther apart, cramming himself into Her roughly, nearly breaking Her in two. She sobbed, tears streaming down Her face, cutting clear streaks through the blood on Her skin, but he did not care. She was less than human to him. The raw power it gave him to take from Her what he wanted without regard to the future events his actions would set in motion surged through his body like the flames surged outside the small room. He cared for nothing but himself.

The man's face rose up, staring Loki directly in the eye as he defiled the beautiful creature below him who was, by now, whimpering in pain and sadness, resigned to Her fate and slowly dying before his eyes.

What Loki saw made him wish to be burned alive in the battle raging outside.

In the man's face, Loki saw his own reflected back at him.

* * *

The next thing he knew, someone was shaking him by the shoulders.

"Luke! Come on, Luke, wake up!" Grace was speaking in a loud whisper, trying not to wake Amy at the same time as she tried to wake him from his nightmare.

He flew upwards, sitting straight up all at once. His eyes began to focus, recognizing his surroundings. Grace was sitting on the edge of his bed, whole and perfect, neither blood nor bruise maligning her skin, eyes narrowed on him with concern. Once she saw his eyes open, her hands loosened from his shoulders and ran down his arms lightly, resting on the tops of his hands, which gripped the bedcovers tightly as a boa constrictor around a mouse.

"I… nightmare…" That was all he could say, still caught between reality and the dream. His throat was dry, his chest heaving.

Amy was not yet old enough to have nightmares, but Grace had had more than a few of her own and she tried to recall what her mother did for her at those times. She reached out her hand and wiped the sweat from his brow gently. He was always so cold to the touch, even now, despite sleeping under copious amounts of down bedding.

"It was a dream," she said, her voice low and rolling. "Just a dream. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No!" He snapped. Then, more gently: "I simply wish to try to forget it and go back to sleep."

Grace nodded, considering his response. She understood his inclination to ignore it and hope it went away, but she felt something more should be done. The dream had clearly upset him, and it would probably be difficult for him to fall back to sleep. If Grace knew him at all, she predicted he would stay up mulling over its meaning without something to distract him away from it. The next thing she said took some amount of courage on her part, but Luke had given her so much comfort in the past few months that it was time she returned the favor.

"Can I stay?"

His voice caught in his throat and he emitted only a small squeak in response. He was not sure he heard her correctly, and did not want to risk upsetting her as he had the other day. But Grace smiled kindly.

"I'll take that as a yes. It's just for tonight," she reminded, as she might her child asking to spend the night in her bed after a nightmare. "And it's just platonic."

"Understood," Loki replied, shifting to his right to make room for her before laying down on his back. She crawled over him carefully, her cotton pajama pants grazing his bare stomach. She untied her robe and tossed it over the bottom of the bed, and settled down next to him, but they did not touch. Neither of them was certain how far was too far or how much was too much. Grace fell back to sleep first and quickly, curled on her side facing him. However, she was right in her unspoken estimation: Loki was happy for the distraction from his own mind. He listened to her shallow breaths, melodic and peaceful, a welcome change from the screams of his nightmares. He counted them as they came, one by one, as if to ensure that she was still alive, until he was lulled him into a restful, deep sleep.

As she fell asleep first, so too did Grace awaken. The room was completely dark because of the blackout curtains draping the windows, the clock on the nightstand next to her reading 4:26 a.m. But she knew precisely where she was. She remembered coming to him late the night before, awakened by his screams, comforting him as best she could, and then lying down next to him to keep his mind from wandering back to the place from whence she had dragged it. She did not, however, remember falling asleep as she awoke, with the sensation of his arms wrapped around her, his chest pressed against her back, warm breath heating the back of her neck, long, thick eyelashes tickling the top of her spine.

She closed her eyes and imagined the way he looked right that second. He always looked so unbelievably innocent in sleep, much younger than his thirty-ish years. His hardened expression became pliable and lost to the world. The lines in his forehead relaxed and his lips parted slightly, looking even more kissable than they usually did. The dark hair would fall in his face carelessly, frizzing at the crown a bit. He seemed to be very deep in sleep, and she was glad for it, after what had seemed like a terrible nightmare. She wondered if he was dreaming right now. She wondered if he ever dreamed of her.

The last thought Grace had before she fell back to sleep in those early morning hours was this: even though she did not remember falling asleep with Luke curled against her, she could not say with certainty that she was unhappy about waking up that way.


	26. Never Grow Up

**Author's Note: **That last chapter took a lot out of me, so I'm sorry it took so long to write this one. I tried to make it lot longer than the others, though, to make up for it. Please enjoy this bit of fluffy goodness, and I hope it makes you all cry. Because it made me cry writing it.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Six: Never Grow Up

Song: "Never Grow Up" by Taylor Swift

"Now this is how you spend Shabbat," Rachel said, tilting her head back to take a long drink of her mimosa, as the waiter finished taking their orders. It had been several months since all four of the friends had been available on the same Saturday morning for brunch, but Stacy had demanded that at least one of them abduct her from her wife-and-mother duties. It just so happened that all of them had volunteered for the same day. They met up at L'Apicio in the East Village; for fairness' sake, they picked something that was out of the way for everyone.

"I'll have the shrimp polenta," Grace said, the last to order. Rachel gasped in mock horror as the waiter collected their menus and walked away, Leah ogling him as he left.

"Grace Miriam Lawson! That's not even close to Kosher!" She mimicked Vivian's voice, knowing the elder Lawson would have been horrified to see her only daughter eschewing the dietary laws in favor of sinful shellfish.

"I think Kosher went out the window when we all had premarital sex," Leah joked, letting the words fly out before she thought them through. Grace winced.

"Oh, Grace," Leah said. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean-"

"It's okay," Grace said quickly, wanting nothing less than to ruin what had been, thus far, a "before" type of day.

"So," Stacy said, clearing her throat. "Not to bring this back around to mommy territory for those of us who have not been so burdened, but Grace, isn't Amy's birthday coming up?"

"Yeah," Grace replied. "I suppose it is. But to be honest, I suck as a mommy, because I haven't planned the thirteen clowns and eighty zoo animals yet."

"Oh, come on," Rachel replied, taking another swig of mimosa as the waiter brought out warm bread to the table. "Stacy only had two clowns for Paul Jr.'s first birthday. She's a way worse mom than you!"

Stacy rolled her eyes dramatically, and buttered a piece of bread.

"I swear to God, it's like I had kids just to amuse you guys," she said. "Anyway, Grace, all joking aside, I was talking to your mom the other day, and we do need to plan something for Amy's birthday."

"I get that, but I have no idea what I'm doing," Grace sighed. "It's not like they gave me a manual when I got pregnant that said, 'here's what you do at milestones.' And speaking of milestones, she said her first word."

All three of the women gasped and grinned at once.

"Well?" Stacy raised an eyebrow. "What was it?"

"I'm sure it was mommy or something," Leah said. "Although my first word, according to my father, was chocolate."

"Why am I not surprised?" Grace smirked. "And actually, it wasn't mommy."

"Really? Then what was it?" Stacy seemed surprised, and for good reason, Grace supposed. It only seemed logical that Amy's first world should have reflected the most important person in her life. Then again, maybe it still did.

"It wasn't really a word, honestly," she began.

"Grace, what are you hiding? Did she say 'fuck' or something?" Leah laughed.

"If she did, it's your fault," Rachel shot back. "Come on, out with it."

"Okay, fine. She said Luke's name."

And, as she predicted, all three women in front of her were silent for what seemed like an hour but was, in reality, only a few awkward seconds. Rachel was the first to speak. She folded her arms on top of the table and leaned forward.

"Look, Grace, I think I can safely speak from some level of experience with the guy. He's not a bad employee. In fact, he really doesn't suck as badly as I thought he would. He seems perfectly well mannered and relatively intelligent. But that doesn't mean he's daddy material."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Grace's eyes narrowed and she felt herself growing hot under her collar.

"Rachel…" Leah gave her a warning look and put her hand on Grace's arm. "Gracie, look, it's not that we don't like him."

Stacy nodded. "We're just… concerned."

A dark, negative thought was beginning to creep into Grace's mind like a virus.

"Is this because of Luke, or because you don't think I know how to make decisions for myself?"

"No!"

"Not at all!"

"Absolutely not!"

"Well," Grace replied, "Then what the hell is it? Because if it has nothing to do with Luke himself, and nothing to do with my decision making ability, then what is the problem? Have I done something to make any of you think I would suddenly start making poor decisions when it comes to who I spend my life with?"

"It's not that," Rachel said, eyes softening. "It's just that we don't want you or Amy to get hurt. You've been hurt enough. Even the best guys in the world might not want to raise a kid all of a sudden after being on their own for most of their lives. What makes you think he wants to raise Amy with you?"

Grace considered this. Luke had told her once that he had no desire to have a child, and she had assured him she was not looking for a father for Amy. She still meant that. But she had also gotten used to him being around, and had a difficult time picturing her life suddenly devoid of his presence.

Before she could respond to Rachel's question, the waiter mercifully arrived with brunch.

As they devoured bites of pumpkin pancakes, mezzaluna, shrimp polenta, and gravalax, they went back to discussing Amy's upcoming birthday party. They seemed to have come prepared to plan the entire event in one sitting. Stacy had even brought a book on the subject with her, and Rachel and Leah referenced conversations they had had with Vivian over the last couple of weeks. Grace wondered how often her friends talked to her mother without her knowledge. While she appreciated how involved they wanted to be with Amy's life, and while she knew it was Jewish tradition to raise children communally, she could not help but feel like no one believed she could pull this off on her own. Truth be told, she couldn't raise Amy on her own - she had plenty of help from her parents, from her friends, from Luke - but she didn't think she was completely incapable of doing something as small as throwing her daughter a birthday party. Especially given their earlier conversation about her relationship with Luke, she wondered if her friends thought she was incapable of it.

"I think," Grace said, interrupting Stacy and Leah's high-pitched debate about whether a Barbie theme set the wrong example, "That we don't need to throw a huge party."

The group went silent.

"What do you mean?" Rachel asked. "Do you not want to throw her a party? Come on, Grace, it's her first birthday! I don't even like kids and I know she needs cake."

"No, it's not that," Grace replied, shaking her head. "It's just that, well, why does it have to be some giant affair like it's her bat mitzvah or something? There's enough chaos right now. Can't we just have a quiet little get together with some other kids from the apartment complex and some family and friends? That was what my first birthday was, and I don't think I ended up scarred. At least not from that."

No one really knew how to argue with her. Stacy opened and shut her mouth quickly, and Leah focused her attention on the hot waiter.

"Okay, Grace," Stacy said, after a long silence. "A quiet night at home it is."

"Can we at least get her a smash cake?" Rachel's eyes sparkled mischievously, almost reminding Grace of Luke's for a minute. "She needs a smash cake!"

"Perfect," Grace rolled her eyes. She took another sip of her drink and grinned despite herself. "Just what her mother needs, a baby with curly red hair full of chocolate cake!"

* * *

It seemed like everyone had an opinion they wanted to offer on what Grace "should" be doing for the big event. Her female coworkers all shared stories about their own kids' first birthday parties, most of which involved ponies and bounce houses. She was able to shoot those down easily, since Amy's birthday was in February and the weather was especially inclimate. Stacy, Leah, and Rachel all mostly respected her wishes, but still Rachel was still hung up on the idea of a smash cake, which Grace supposed she could partially get behind, at least in theory if not in practice. Her parents tried to interject as well, even offering to pay for an afternoon at American Girl for Amy and some of the kids from the apartment complex. Grace refused all these "suggestions," observing that Amy was far too young to remember this event in the first place. Furthermore, Grace opined, even if Amy could remember it, she would be better served by a memory like Grace's - of close friends and family gathered around a cake in the comfort of home rather than an extravagant party surrounded by tons of kids she barely knew.

At the end of the two weeks that spanned between brunch and Amy's birthday, however, Grace was beginning to feel like an unfit mother. Every time she told someone that plans included chocolate cake and Play-doh contests, they would give her a look that made her wither internally.

The one person who did not seem to have an opinion at all was Luke. She was initially surprised at his disinterest in the affair, since he was usually so opinionated about, well, everything. Then she had remembered what he had said around Christmas about not celebrating holidays where he came from and wondered if perhaps his family didn't celebrate birthdays either. From the afternoon that she had come home from brunch to announce the upcoming celebration, he had barely looked up long enough to ask one question - what kind of pudding would be served?

Despite her best efforts to keep the event low-key, the night before and day of the party, Grace was a nervous wreck. After a mostly sleepless night filled with waking dreams about every possible thing that could go wrong at a child's party, she forced herself out of bed at six in the morning to start preparing the meal. She had conceded to having the party at her parents' apartment since it was more spacious and could accommodate more kids running around, and guests would begin arriving at two in the afternoon. However, she refused to have a catered affair as Stacy had suggested, instead insisting on doing all the cooking herself. An hour and two dozen peeled potatoes later, however, she was beginning to regret that decision.

She wiped her hands on her apron and took a swig of her coffee, when she suddenly heard stirrings from the back bedrooms. She craned her neck, hoping to hear nothing more, because she needed Amy to sleep the last two hours of her infancy so that she could finish preparing the meal. Before she could come around the counter to investigate the sound, however, Luke padded out from the hallway, making quiet steps in his dress shoes. His irises stood out even more when contrasted with the cerulean sweater wrapping the muscles of his chest. As usual, his pants were just this side of obscenely tight.

"Good morning," Grace said in hushed tones, setting down the potato peeler long enough to grab a second coffee mug out of the cupboard and fill Luke's cup for him - black, a teaspoon of sugar. She handed it to him, and he took a long, slow sip from it.

"And to you as well," he finally replied. "You appear to be cooking for a small army."

"You've clearly never been to a Jewish party," she laughed. "My people are the Olympic champions of eating."

"I gathered that, from the looks of things. Have you help coming?"

"Oh," she sighed, looking at the clock. "I'd guess that Rachel will pop in at some point soon. Maybe Leah, too. Stacy will probably be coming with the kids later on."

He nodded slowly, taking another long drink of his coffee, as though he were rushing to finish it. It was then that Grace spied the shoulder bag draped over his left shoulder.

"Going somewhere?"

"It is Saturday," he replied in a voice that made it sound as though she should have realized what that meant.

"Uh, yeah?" She pulled out a cutting board and selected a large, sharp knife from the block in the corner. "I mean, I know you usually work, but you can't possibly be going in today, can you?"

When her question was met with a responsive silence, she had her answer. Her lips pursed, and she did not bother to look up when he set his cup down on the counter, slamming the knife into the cutting board just a little bit too hard with each slice of the potatoes. She was afraid if she spoke of what might come from her lips, and she did not want to spoil the day's memories with anger, no matter how well deserved. Loki, on the other hand, was keenly aware of the change in her attitude.

"Grace," he began. "I shall only be away for a few hours and will endeavor to return prior to the party's end. I realize this is an important event for you, but I do have responsibilities."

Grace slammed the knife down, and immediately regretted it when she heard Amy cry. She wiped her hands on her cupcake-patterned apron, and smoothed her hair back out of her face before looking straight into his face.

"No, I get it. I do. It's not like you're her father, after all." Her voice was cold as the winds of Jotunheim, but to his surprise, her words were what pierced him. As she flounced past him to go collect Amy from her crib, he could almost feel an icy breeze blow past. He took his leave before she could return, leaving her to the party preparations, hopeful she would be in better spirits upon his return.

* * *

There was a high-pitched squeal from the back bedroom where a temporary playroom had been set up for the party guests under three feet tall.

"Paul! Could you go check on the kids, please?" Stacy called to her husband, who was seated on the couch with Al, Rachel's boyfriend Brian and Leah's husband Ian. The men were, predictably, watching basketball on television while their respective partners busied themselves putting the final touches on dinner. The women were just as happy to play into this particular stereotype, as any more people in Vivian's kitchen probably would have caused more problems than solved them. At Stacy's request, however, Paul instantly arose and wandered off to the spare bedroom to check on the children, who were supposed to be making Play-doh birthday cakes which would be judged by none other than the birthday girl for a prize at the end of the night. Along with Stacy and Paul's two kids, Paul Jr. and Chloe, Rachel and Leah had each brought their nieces, Jessica and Lottie, both of whom were just a little older than Amy and loved treating her like their own personal Barbie doll. Grace didn't mind; she was happy that Amy would have friends to grow up with just like she had. And now that Amy was getting older, Grace hoped she would be able to spend more time with the two girls.

Paul ambled back out to the kitchen, running a hand through his thick blonde hair.

"They're not dead, at least, but I think Paul Jr. might be getting tired of being outnumbered back there," he said, his deep baritone reverberating through the room. "Any chance food might be ready soon?"

"About ten minutes," Vivian said, bending back up from checking the entree cooking in the oven. "We've just got to reheat the latkes for the kids after the shawarma finishes. The kugel's cooling, and the green beans are already ready."

"Say nothing of the cheesecake in the fridge or the pudding that shortly will be," Rachel continued, while spooning generous heaps of chocolate pudding into glass bowls and topping them with whipped cream.

"Like anyone asked you to make that," Grace muttered under her breath. Everyone in the room heard it, but no one said anything. Rachel shot a sideways glance to Grace, who refused to return her stare.

"Thanks, babe," Stacy said, breaking the silence and giving Paul a quick kiss on the cheek before shooing him back to the living room - though ten minutes later, it was as if an army had descended upon the kitchen, after Grace announced dinner's completion. Given that half the guests had the attention spans of gnats, it had been decided that buffet-style would be better than sit-down, and disposable serveware would be better than the fine china. Grace had indulged Stacy and conceded on Barbie-themed paper plates, but had drawn the line at wearing one of the silly hats - although she had allowed Amy to wear the princess tiara Rachel had picked up from the party store. Every little girl deserved to feel like a princess at one time or another, and Grace supposed her daughter's first birthday was as fine a time as any.

The kids sat around the living room coffee table eating latkes with their fingers, a plastic tarp having been laid over the carpeting well in advance. Chloe, the oldest of the children at seven, had begged to help Amy eat, and Grace was grateful for the assistance. It meant she could, for the first time all day, sit down and rest. The adults sat in the dining room, within ear and eyeshot of the kids but still thankful to be able to have the chance to have a grown-up conversation having spent the afternoon playing all manner of children's party games.

"Grace, I gotta ask this," Rachel said, avoiding eye contact and focusing instead on her plate of kugel. "You've been a little standoffish with me all day. Have I done something wrong?"

"Gee, what gave you the hint? It's not the time to talk about it," Grace shot back. "It's a party."

Rachel's eyes narrowed as she turned now to face the young mother.

"Where's Luke? Did something happen with him that's put you in such a bad mood?" The rest of the group shifted uncomfortably in their seats, the elephant in the room having finally been addressed. Only the sounds of chewing echoed in the silence.

"You should know," Grace replied. "You make his schedule."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rachel's face descended into utter confusion.

"Grace, sweetie, perhaps now really isn't the time-" Al tried to be congenial as usual, but Grace was not dissuaded.

"No, she asked," Grace said. "Rach, you're telling me there wasn't anyone else you could have gotten to work today? You know how important this was to me, and I wanted him here-"

"Wait, wait, whoa, whoa, whoa," Rachel held up her hands in front of her. "I didn't schedule Luke to work today! I purposely didn't schedule him today! Do you really think I would have done that?"

Grace shut her eyes tightly, trying to think. Thoughts swirled in her head like murky water, and she couldn't swim through them fast enough to keep up.

"I just… I mean, I know you don't like him, and he said he had to work today…"

"Grace, I told you before. It's not that I don't like him. I don't trust him. And given that he's just proven he's a liar," Rachel sighed. "I can't say I was wrong about that."

Grace was having a hard time wrapping her head around any of this. Why would Luke have lied to her about having to work? Was it to escape the party? That didn't make sense. He had become so close to Amy over the last few months. They read together every night before Amy went to bed, already getting through the first two Harry Potter books. He changed diapers, gave her bottles, took her for walks in her stroller. Why would he want to avoid the first big event in her life?

She gazed across the table into the living room at her previous baby girl, wild red curls flying around her face as Chloe fed her forkfuls of sweet potato latkes covered in brown sugar. Amy's tiny pink lips curled into an appreciative smile with each bite. She probably had no idea it was even her birthday, no idea that it was such an important birthday. But it was, and Grace hurt. She hurt for herself, for his absence from this event, but moreover, she hurt for her daughter, who would someday know of Luke's absence and would not understand it any better than Grace did.

And then, just as Grace was preparing to ask Brian and Ian to go up to her apartment and start packing Luke's things, there was a knock at the front door.

"I'll get it!" Chloe and Paul, Jr. both yelled at the same time, and there was a clattering of footsteps racing to the door. Vivian excused herself and followed them, and a minute later, Chloe's voice rang out.

"Who're you?"

"My name is Luke, child," a lilting accent replied, soft but authoritative. "And you might be?"

Chloe's giggle was followed by an introduction of both her and Paul by Vivian, who led him back to the dining room, where the group waited for him. He looked slightly bedraggled and windswept, and was covered in melting snow. His coat collar was turned up, and he lifted his shoulderbag over his head, laying it on the floor to the side of the table. Though there were several introductions made, his eyes stayed fixed on Grace, who was giving him the same icy stare from the morning.

"Well," she finally said. "I'm glad to see you finally made it from work." There was a strange emphasis on the last word she spoke, and Loki caught it. Suddenly, he caught the look on Rachel's face reflected in Grace's.

She knew he hadn't been at work.

"It appears I have been found out," he said coolly.

"It appears you have," Leah said, interjecting herself. "If I were you, I'd peace out, dude."

"May I at least explain?"

Grace opened her mouth to tell Luke exactly what she would think of any explanation he had to offer, but just then, Chloe appeared at the dining room door excitedly.

"Mama, when can we sing happy birthday? We want cake!"

And just like that, their dinners only partially finished, everyone but Grace and Luke moved to the kitchen to prepare the cake with its candles, grateful for the distraction from the awkward scene about to take place. Grace and Loki stood staring at one another, his gaze soft, hers frozen in anger, a stark reversal from what would have been the case only months before. He wished more than anything that he could break through the icy glare. When, Loki wondered, had things changed? When had he grown heart?

Before he could proffer his explanation for his prolonged absence, Grace whispered the one word that could hurt him more than any other for its simple truth before she left the room: _bastard._

* * *

"Happy birthday to you - happy birthday to you - happy birthday, dear Amy - happy birthday to you!" The group sang to Amy, seated in her high chair in front of the counter, a chocolate sheet cake with a single candle in the shape of the number one burning brightly on top of it. Loki stood toward the back of the room, mouthing the words silently, feeling as much an outcast as he ever had. They continued with a Jewish blessing, which Loki did not understand. "Baruch Atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech Ha-Olam shecheyanu v'kiy'manu v'higyanu lazman hazeh!"

"Come on, sweetie, let's blow out the candle and make a wish!" Grace leaned over the cake with Amy, lifting her up slightly, and puffed out her cheeks, motioning to Amy to follow suit. They both blew the candle out, mother and daughter together, and Loki wondered if Grace had made a wish as well, and if so, what it had been.

Everyone clapped and cheered when the candle went out on the first blow, and immediately the other kids ran toward the playroom to retrieve the presents that the guests had brought with them. A flurry of brightly wrapped boxes returned with them, various shapes and sizes. Everyone had gone to great lengths to spoil Amy, it seemed. Grace thought back to her baby shower. It had been the same thing then - so many presents, more than she knew what to do with. Sometimes she wondered if it would be the same if she hadn't been a single mother, if Amy's conception hadn't been what it was.

Shaking the thought off, she turned back to Amy and lifted her from the high chair, taking her to her parents' living room to sit on the middle seat of the couch between her parents, the rest of the group gathered in a circle around them. The kids took turns handing Amy and Grace box after box, and Amy relished ripping the wrapping paper from each one. Loki remained in his place near the dining room door, watching carefully. From Rachel and Brian, Amy received three new dresses, each with a different Disney princess theme. Leah and Ian got her several coloring books and a huge box of crayons. Her grandparents gave her several Jewish savings bonds, and what seemed like dozens of dolls. Several new Barbies were Stacy and Paul's gift, particularly true to form.

"And don't think Mommy doesn't have a present for you," Grace said, handing Amy to her mother and stepping quietly out of the room. She returned presently with a guitar, surprising Loki, as he had never seen one in her apartment, much less seen her hold one. He raised an eyebrow at her, and she momentarily forgot she was angry with him.

"I've been practicing this for a couple weeks now when no one's been home," she explained. "I played when I was a teenager and only stopped when… well, when. But I thought this would be a good present, better than anything I could buy, because obviously she's spoiled enough as it is." She smiled, and began to strum quiet chords as Vivian held a mesmerized Amy on her lap. Suddenly, a melody floated from Grace's throat, sweet as the cake on the counter and soft as a feather dancing through the air.

"Your little hand's wrapped around my finger and it's so quiet in the world tonight - your little eyelids flutter cause you're dreaming so I tuck you in, turn on your favorite nightlight…"

Loki closed his eyes and remembered his own mother, the hum of her voice as she used to sing to him when he was just a young boy. He began forming memories much earlier than most Midgardian children could, and he remembered clearly as an infant being comforted only by his mother's singing. Odin may have saved his life, but Frigga, she had saved his soul.

"Oh, darling, don't you ever grow up, don't you ever grow up, just stay this little - oh, darling, don't you ever grow up, don't you ever grow up, it could stay this simple - I won't let nobody hurt you, won't let no one break your heart - and no one will desert you - just try to never grow up…"

When she finished the lullabye, everyone - including Loki - had tears in their eyes. No one spoke, but when Grace put down the guitar and took Amy into her arms for a long, deep hug, everyone felt the warmth and tenderness penetrating their hearts. But Grace only felt it for the little creature she had created a year ago that night. She loved Amy more in that moment than she ever had anyone in her life, and she knew that no matter what Luke had done or not done that day, no matter if he had no plans to take seriously their relationship, whatever it was, she would never allow him to hurt her daughter. She would always do what she could to protect Amy. This was her job as a mother.

Eventually, though, someone had to break the silence, and Loki was always good at interjecting where no one else would.

"I feel that my offering cannot compare to that, but…"

All eyes were on him, including Grace's, whose hardened once again. She kept a firm grip on Amy, who reached her arms around her mother's neck toward Loki. He stepped briefly into the dining room and returned with two small, wrapped packages in plain, brown wrapping paper. He kneeled in front of the couch where Grace and Amy sat, and Grace pursed her lips.

"Nice wrap job," she said.

"Your gift was not wrapped and yet it was the most beautiful of them all," he replied, stunning her into silence. Out of the corner of her eye, Grace saw Vivian's mouth twitch into a slight smile. Then, he spoke directly to Amy.

"Little one, one of these gifts is for now, and one is for later. But you may open both tonight. First, the one for now." He handed her the first package. Amy ripped into it the way she had all the others, and when she finished, in Grace's lap sat a book called "D'Aulaires' Book of Norse Myths," a children's book with a colorful drawing of a powerful-looking God holding a spear and riding a horse galloping through the air. Even Grace could not help but smile as she recalled Luke telling her about the Norns when she had cried her secrets to him that first night. Amy's tiny fingers grazed the cover and she pointed with a smile at the man's winged helmet.

"I thought we could begin reading that once we finish the Harry Potter books," he said. "They are the stories I grew up with myself. I had to read several children's versions of these stories before finding one that adequately captured the truth of the stories."

"The truth of the-" Leah began. But Loki cut her off, realizing his mistake.

"And now," he continued. "The second."

The second package was heavier, thicker, but Grace knew instinctively it was another book. As the wrapping fell away, Grace's brow furrowed. Under her hands sat a copy of The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, an unabridged version. The book smelled of old paper, the thing Grace loved most about old bookstores, which is where she imagined this copy came from. It did not appear new like the other book he had given Amy.

"I don't understand," Grace began. "She can't understand Shakespeare, Luke. She's a year old, for God's sake."

Loki smiled, understanding her confusion, having prepared for it. He took Amy's tiny hands in his own, but looked directly into Grace's hazy eyes.

"You said this morning that I am not her father, and I realize I never will be. Her father is a monster, as was my own," he began. "We cannot replace our birth fathers with substitutes, no matter how caring they may be. But I have no plans to leave your side, or hers, for the future. The first book is for now, and the second is for me to read to her when she is old enough to understand the context. Perhaps when she is old enough that I might take her to see the plays acted out during the summer series in the Park," he explained.

Grace could feel her face burning, and her ears filled with dead air, though she could vaguely hear aww-ing noises from those gathered around her - even Rachel, the hardened nonbeliever.

"I am sorry that I lied to you today. But I had to go to several, and I do mean several, different stores to find both of these items, and it took me far longer than I thought it would."

His eyes were earnest, and Grace wanted to say she understood, that he was forgiven, that she was sorry for being angry in the first place, but words would not flow from her mouth. He left her speechless far more often than she was used to.

Amy, however, did all the talking for both of them when she reached out and put her arms around Loki's neck, repeating his name with glee.

* * *

Three hours later, the party had ended, and Loki had enjoyed his pudding, though some confusion had ensued when his meaning of pudding had clashed with the American meaning of the word. They had gotten home only half an hour later, and Grace was in the shower and Loki was in his bedroom reading yet another book from her collection - this one, a biography about President Kennedy - when he heard a small whimper from the bedroom next to his. Amy's bedroom. He swung his legs over the side of his bed and walked in his pajama bottoms and slippers into the nursery, which was illuminated only by a soft nightlight. Amy was restless, and had worked herself up into a sitting position, hair frizzed into a tangled mess and her face scrunched as if in pain.

By now, Loki was a professional. He picked Amy up from her crib and nestled her to his chest. She still struggled, though, which was unnatural for her. He wondered if perhaps she had had a nightmare and was trying to break free from it still, as he had had to do a few weeks ago when Grace had comforted him. Suddenly, he had an idea. He began to walk Amy around the room in slow circles, running his hand over her hair, smoothing it away from her face, supporting her bottom with his other arm.

"Your little hand's wrapped around my finger and it's so quiet in the world tonight - your little eyelids flutter cause you're dreaming, so I tuck you in, turn on your favorite nightlight…"

His voice was not nearly so beautiful as Grace's, but he wanted to try to do something to comfort the child of whom he'd grown so fond. As if he had taken a video with his mind, he remembered the words to the lullabye Grace had sung easily, almost too easily.

"I won't let nobody hurt you, won't let no one break your heart - and no one will desert you - just try to never grow up, never grow up…"

He turned to the doorway and saw Grace standing there, leaning against the frame in her bathrobe, hair still wet from her shower. She was smiling, tears shining in her eyes, but she said nothing. Instead, she approached him and put her arms around his waist, Amy between them, her skin warming them both.

They sang quietly together.

"Oh darling, don't you ever grow up, don't you ever grow up, it could stay this simple - won't let nobody hurt you, won't let no one break your heart - and even though you want to, please try to never grow up - oh, don't you ever grow up - oh, never grow up, just never grow up…"

As they finished the song, Grace stood on her tiptoes as Loki leaned his head down, and as their lips met in a soft, sweet kiss, she realized at last that at least in this apartment, in this little circle, there was no one from whom she needed to protect Amy - or herself.


End file.
